Right Round
by ghoulgraverobber
Summary: Harry up until now thought that he had no family, but he soon discovers the truth & makes a choice between light, or dark. And comes closer to being free. For the tradgedy of life is not that it ends too soon, but that we wait so long to begin it. TR/HP
1. Don't Shake, I Hate To See You Tremble

Right Round

Main Pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter (because I can't get enough of those two!)

Summary: Sirius is gone and Harry is alone, in the coldness. He feels ingnored and lied to. But can the truth be uncovered in the darkness that surrounds him? Harry decides it is time to start taking matters into his own hands. For the tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it. TR/Dark!Harry.

The pronunciation of Regulus's child's name is Ack-you-luss. Sort of sounds like Regulus, huh? =D

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**Baby I can feel your halo, praying it won't fade away.**

12:32 PM:

Suffocated. Harry felt suffocated. Everything whirling around him in one big mesh of colour and sound. Every action, voice, face, body part, objects shoved into a blender on puree. A chair scraping across the stone floor melded with that of a quill running delicately over parchment. Everyone was shouting, trying to be heard over the cacophony. Harry heard someone whimpering and sniffling in the corner, tears streaming down their face. He shivered, blinking, trying to regain his bearings.

The noises started to become more defined and distinct again, though still slightly mushy and laced together. An image began to make itself known on his retinas. The room full of people that he currently occupied was staring at him. He recognized almost all the people before him. He felt his head haze for a moment, and he nearly lost his footing, but a hand on his shoulder steadied him. He glanced up to see Remus staring back down at him, eyes red and bleary.

_'The person, who had been crying,'_ he mused. Surprised he could form a coherent thought in his mind at the moment. He looked around the room. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Moody, Mr. & Mrs. Weasley and Kingsley were all seated across from him. Ron, Hermione and the Twins were next to him. He glanced towards the left of the head of the table and saw the empty seat. It was Sirius's seat. Gone. Vacant. Barren. Lifeless.

An image of the pale-faced man floating into the veil flashed through his mind. He felt selfish, everyone was obviously hurting at the loss, but he didn't care. He wanted Sirius; he wanted people to comfort him about the loss. He wanted to rip Bellatrix limb from limb. He wanted to feel complete again. He wanted, wanted, wanted. Why couldn't he just, for once, receive?

He heard Hermione's soft feminine sniffles on the left of him, and watched from the corner of his eye as Ron wrapped an arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and began crying. He longed for someone to do that to him. He pushed his chair back and stood, abruptly leaving the room. He needed fresh air.

He wandered downstairs and out the back door into the half-dying garden, his breath puffed out in front of him. The cold winter air hissed against his cheek - it would be spring soon. School would be ending before Harry knew it, his friends would be going their separate ways, and Harry would return to the Dursley's for yet another summer or fun in the sun. The-Boy-Who-Lived shut his eyes harshly; he remembered how he had once hoped that he could visit Sirius over vacation. Those dreams felt dead now, just like his loving godfather.

Harry sat down on a stone bench across from a dilapidated fountain. The statue depicted a young boy, about 10 or 11 laying on the ground, relaxed, his long hair falling about him in a fan fashion. He was smiling happily, his eyes closed, his face relaxed, as if he was enjoying the presence of another. The young boy had his right hand raised above him slightly, close to his face. There was a long, slinky, serpent wrapped carefully around his arm, the top of the snake's head resting on the boy's extended index finger. Its tongue was sticking out of its mouth, and from the body language of the animal and the boy, Harry perceived that it was whispering to the boy.

He froze in his spot on the bench. That was impossible; nobody in the Black family had been a parselmouth, or at least not anyone Harry knew of. He looked at the boy in the statue again, trying to determine who it might be in Sirius's family tree. It wasn't any of the girls, obviously. It wasn't Sirius, or his father Orion. '_It could be a young Phineas Nigellus,'_ Harry wondered, but quickly disregarded the thought because he knew for a fact that the old Hogwarts Headmaster couldn't and wasn't a parselmouth.

He wondered for quite the amount of time, who it could be, standing up, he ran his hand along the side of the boys face. He looked about him in the garden and saw that the sun was beginning to rise, how long had he been out here? He looked back at the fountain, and felt his eyes watering. He didn't want to leave this place, didn't want to go back inside and have to deal with everything. Couldn't he just crawl into the fountain and escape to the time of the young boy depicted there? He looked so happy; couldn't Harry share some of that happiness?

"That would be too easy." He snorted to himself, turning on his heel and heading back inside. He didn't look back at the statue, but its image stayed in his mind. He would figure it out.

* * *

5:06 AM:

__

"He must not be found. I could not live with myself if they ever found him."

Harry was standing outside a door looking into a dark room, a candle flickered on a small mantelpiece. The two figures in the room cast large, ominous shadows on the wall. He didn't recognize the voice of the person who had just spoken.

"I know I could not either. I believe we can trust him in Lily's hands." the other figures stated, his voice was sure of himself, commanding. Harry thought it sounded so familiar, the name on the tip of his tongue, ready to leap off into the surrounding air. And why were they talking about his mother? How did they know her?

"I hope so, I trust Lily more than anything. I love her." The first person to speak said this, and the tenderness in his voice was clearly evident. Harry began to wonder if it could be his father, James, but disregarded the thought. It couldn't be possible. He would have known if one of them had been his Dad.

"I shall leave it all to you then, Tom." Man #1 whispered softly, Harry having to strain his ears to hear what was said. "I trust you like a brother and I know you will everything that is necessary." he murmured. Harry thought he had a faint idea who this Tom character was. He grimaced and shivered slightly.

"Yet you still worry, Regulus." Harry felt his entire body go rigid. Sirius's brother. His brother was talking to Tom. Tom Riddle. Talking to each other about his mother! Harry felt rage boil within his bones, tearing through the marrow and tendons, reaching the very core of his being. He wanted to rip something to shreds.

"Of course I'm going to worry. I am entrusting you with my son, my pride and joy." Harry saw Tom reach out and rest his hand on Regulus's shoulder. Harry smirked, 'He's using comfort as a way to manipulate Regulus. But. .I didn't know Regulus had a son, I didn't even know he was married for that matter.' Harry thought. He heard Regulus shuffle in his spot, and soon realized that the young man was holding something in the crook of his arm.

'Is that his. . .?'

The question was answered when the bundle let out a small gurgling sound, and Harry heard Tom chuckle slightly. Harry thought the noise sounded too pleasant coming from such an evil man.

"You are always the one to lighten the mood, Aeschylus." Tom whispered to the baby in Regulus's arms. Regulus smiled contently, letting his son play and suck on Regulus's fingers. The moon moved out from behind the clouds and shone in through the window, casting silver light upon the three males. Harry could see the baby fully now. It had a messy tuft of black hair, the stuck out in every which way, and large rotund cheeks that look reminiscent of a chipmunk. And his eyes, they were forest green.

Forest green. The same shade as his own. The same shade as his mothers. They were the only two people who had that exact hue.

It couldn't be possible, that baby, it couldn't be him. Could it?

* * *

6:55 AM:

Harry shot up in his bed, panting, chest heaving. His eyes whirled around the room frantically, searching for any trace of Regulus or Tom. When he was satisfied that they weren't anywhere in his immediate area, he stepped out of the bed.

"It was just a dream." Harry assured himself aloud. But he knew that it most likely wasn't. It never was the simple. It didn't feel like a dream, it felt like a memory, there was so much emotion attached to it. He reached up and stroked the scar on his forehead, it burned slightly.

"That couldn't have been one of his memories. It's impossible." Harry mumbled to himself. His mind was fumbling for an answer, searching, screaming into the abyss of the night what the hell was going on, when something dawned on him.

"The fountain in the garden is of Regulus!" Harry yelled to no one in particular, before running down the flight of stairs into the sitting room, and then flew through the kitchen, almost knocking over and unsuspecting Remus.

"Sorry Rem!" he shouted back after him, before flinging open the French doors and running down the distorted flagstone path to the bench he had been sitting on before. He leaned over to catch his breath before looking up at the young depiction before him.

"Regulus. . ." he breathed, eyes soaking in everything that the statue was. Regulus was a parsel mouth, Regulus had a child that looked almost identical to him except it didn't have the burden of the scar, and Regulus had gave said baby to Tom Riddle for safe keeping until Tom could give Aeschylus to Lily.

But that would mean that Tom was friends with Harry's mother, and that was impossible because he killed her. Harry slid down onto the muddy ground, hands fisted in his hair. He wanted to scream into the air, because nothing was making sense.

Sirius had died two nights ago, his cousin Bellatrix had killed him, hadn't even thought twice about firing the curse. Harry had watched the life slowly leave the eyes of the only family member he had left. He had then chased down his god father's murderer and had almost killed her, and then he was attacked by Voldemort, and then had Dumbledore save him. Said headmaster had taken him back to Grimmauld Place where Harry had slept in Sirius's bed and wondered where everything had gone wrong. Then the next day he was suffocated with questions he didn't want to answer, when he'd escaped he came to the garden to find a statue of Regulus, Sirius's brother, speaking to a snake and then, then he'd had a dream about Regulus and Tom fricking Riddle and they were chit chatting casually about exchanging an infant that looked very similar to Harry!

To say that The-Boy-Who-Lived was stressed would be a serious understatement.

All he wanted was a family, something he had gone without for so long. He wanted people to leave him alone, to stop making decisions for him. He wanted to get in charge of his life.

It was time to make a decision. He had been lied to for too long, and this big charade needed to end, now. Because it was grating on Harry's last nerve.

He stood up sharply, wiping angry tears from his eyes. He turned to the statue of Regulus, and stared at it for some time, thinking. He wished he could be as care free as the boy carved from stone. He wished that he could be so, so _free_. But the emotion depicted in front of him seemed a far cry, a hopeless dream.

"Regulus, I wish I could have met you." Harry whispered to himself, voice cracking in spots, showing all the unseen emotion.

Soft rays of sunlight filtered in past the trees and clouds, playing across the surfaces of the garden, making the withered ground almost come to life. Something pale and white caught his eye.

A rolled up piece of parchment seemed to be tucked under the supporting hand of Regulus's statue, the arm that was holding the boy up off the ground. Harry reached forward and slowly slid it out, being careful not to rip or tear it. He examined it. It was a simple piece of rolled up parchment. But, he hadn't noticed it last night, it hadn't been there. He was sure of it. Regardless, he unraveled the paper and began to read the neat, elegant script on it.

__

Harry,

You have questions, I have answers.

It's time for choices, it's time for change. Are you ready for it?

I will give you three days to decide, until the end of your stay at Grimmauld Place.

On the third night I will be waiting for you just beyond the edge of the woods behind the garden. Bring the belongings that you do not wish to part with,

And come join those who are ready to begin anew.

-TMR

Harry dropped the note, hands shaking as the parchment floated to the ground, delicately landing on the sodden ground. He shivered as the rays of the first sunlight bathed him in warmth.

Harry slowly began to make his way back inside, deciding which things would be best to take with him.

* * *

constructive criticism, please? i'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions on this! next chapter will be coming soon, in which Harry learns a little bit more about his parentage and such.


	2. This Is Where We Both Go Numb, Now

And the second chapter is up! Excited? I know I am. Sorry if Tom seems a little OOC at the end, I did my best. And there was a little bit mroe information on Harry's parentage. More will be explained next chapter though, which will hopefully be out by the end of the week or next Monday.

**Disclaimer; don't own, don't sue.**

Enjoy.

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**All this**** time I was wastin', hoping you would come around.**

11:00 AM:

He should be angry, livid, boiling over with rage because of the fact that Tom Riddle had the audacity to even **suggest** that Harry speak to him, let alone join his cause. It was completely and utterly ridiculous, was against everything Harry stood for. Tom was the complete opposite of Harry, negative and positive, hot and cold, light and dark - they were nothing alike. The man had murdered Harry's parents, had made his life a living hell, and had just recently snatched away his only happiness, Sirius. Everything that could possibly go wrong in Harry's life somehow tied in with Lord Voldemort in one way or another. He tainted the Wizarding World with his foul, evil, stench that hung over the lives of every wizard and witch that willingly or unwillingly crossed his path. He was the rabies that was destroying Harry's world (and everyone else's) as he knew it, and all he could do was try and wipe away a few stray dabbles of spit from the corners of the infectious mouth that had become his life.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was a raging storm filled with dark ominous clouds, and long rainy days that were spent indoors due to the heavy downpour of tears from the clouds. He was the darkening sky before an impending doom. Harry felt his evil with every fiber of his being, and because of that, he felt the breaking, the cracks and flecks of sunlight filtering through the charcoal clouds in the sky.

He felt change. His _heart_ felt change. Moreover, he remembered Sirius telling him once that his natural instincts were what would lead him to the truth. And the truth was something he desperately needed now, with dreams of Regulus and a child that looked near identical to him swirling around in his head, and all of the other things that were happening in his life. Because Harry was starting to notice things, little things, which were leading him to believe that the people surrounding him have not, been all too truthful with him recently.

Like how Harry felt much more comfortable telling Hermione and Neville about his dream and the note, he had received than Ron, his best mate. Or that Dumbledore, a man that he trusted with all his heart and soul, was avoiding answering Harry's questions at all cost, or just flat out ignoring him. Or that 's, someone whom he would respect no matter what, smiles fell just below sincere and right above forced now a day's. However, something that Harry noticed most often was how the Order members no longer felt like they belonged here in Grimmauld Place. It was almost as if the house was rejecting most, if not all, of their presences.

Therefore, with all this taken into consideration, Harry decided that his heart was telling him to go to Tom and find some answers.

* * *

6:00 PM:

Harry was sitting in front of a large dark cherry wood desk in the study when the knock sounded on the door. He hurriedly tried to cover the documents he had been poring over before yelling out a slightly frantic, "Come in!" His heart raced as the doorknob turned, but he was relieved to see it was only Hermione. She smiled at him reassuringly before Harry began to pull the papers and books back out from where he had shoved them inside the desk. Hermione walked over carefully, slowly, glancing at Harry every now and then, as if she were measuring his reaction to her advancement towards him. Once she was in a comfortable proximity she sat in a large, plush, armchair near the fireplace and adjacent to the desk.

"Harry, uhm, what are you doing, exactly?" She said, peering over at the papers, trying to read the title of a particularly old piece of parchment. Harry quickly snatched it up before looking at her hardly.

"I'm searching through old Black Family documents to find anything about Aeschylus or Regulus." He looked up from the journal he was scanning to see Hermione staring at him intently, trying to read him. "I'm not looking for an escape of grieving Sirius. I'm looking for information on Aeschylus and Regulus only. Don't worry about me Hermione." He realized only after she said it that his tone had been snappier than he had wanted.

"Sorry." She mumbled before picking up a piece of paper that had fallen of the desk. "I don't think I've ever seen you this driven to read something, Harry." She giggled, scanning the page before setting it on a stack at the opposite end of the desk.

"I've never had something so complex to solve before. It seems that everything and anything relating to Aeschylus or Regulus was either destroyed or is extremely vague." He huffed indignantly.

"Maybe you just aren't looking in the right places?" She offered, wanting to help in any way possible. "Maybe you should go into Regulus's room or something?" She suggested.

"Maybe. . ." Harry trailed off, considering it. "I guess it wouldn't be too invasive." He said finally. He asked Hermione if she'd like to accompany him, and she agreed, stating she was almost as curious as Harry.

6:25 PM:

The doors to Regulus's room were larger than the one to Sirius's room. It was tall and looming, as if the wooden panels might jump down and eat you alive at any moment, their silver, grey, and black wood work smothering you in a splintery mess. The two large serpents carved onto the face of the double doors were intertwined, slithering in and out of each other in a delicate pattern, intricately interwoven. Their slanted steel eyes were piercing into Harry, sizing him up; as if he were a threat to the snake, it was knotted into.

Harry faltered when he reached to pull open the left door handle, fearing that the icy steel might jump alive and bite him, or scream at him, telling him he could not enter and that if he did he'd die. Hermione nudged him slightly, and that gave him the tiniest bit of courage, forcing his hand to reach over and wrap itself around the handle and swing the door open with all his might. It flew backwards and slammed into the wall rather loudly, causing quite the echo.

"Way to go, muscles." Hermione muttered, walking into the room quickly, Harry following behind silently.

Regulus's room was large, like any other room in Grimmauld Place, and was dusty and full of cobwebs and lint balls. The large four-poster bed in the center of the room was still in fairly good condition, though the bed sheets were rumbled and unmade and the headboard was loosing its glossy wooden shine. The silk sheets and blankets on the bed were still clean. The hardwood floors were dirty, and uncared for, and there were papers and photos scattered about as if someone had come in and thrown everything around rather abruptly. The drawers on the desk beneath the tall windows were pulled open, and the papers on the top of the desk were strewn across it. Harry shuffled over and picked up the first piece of parchment he saw. He scanned it over before setting it down, shuffling through some of the others and grabbing something that caught his eye.

It was a sealed envelope, addressed to one Regulus Black, from a certain slate eyed, dog animagus. Harry tore the letter out of the envelope and greedily soaked up its information, his breathing quick, and heavy. He set it down on the desk before collapsing unceremoniously onto the floor. Hermione glanced over before continuing to read the paper that she was holding.

"What did you find?" she asked curiously, her eyes drifting over to Harry's form lying on the hard floor in a heap of limbs and scruffy hair.

"It was," he gulped hard before continuing, "it was a letter from Sirius, to Regulus." he muttered, sitting up straight and leaning against the bed for support, staring at Hermione nervously.

"And what did it say?" she nudged, getting rather bothered that Harry just wouldn't spit it out.

"Well, either I'm going crazy and can no longer read correctly," he was shaking as he said it, every limb and fiber and part of him quaking to the rapid beating of his heart, "Or Sirius also had a kid named Aeschylus." Harry whispered, voice harsh with the emotion welling up inside him.

"Oh. Oh wow." Hermione said unintelligibly, which is a rare occurrence, since Hermione is everything **except** unintelligible. "Well maybe he meant it metaphorically, like he considered Aeschylus to be a son to him?" She offered.

Harry shook his head, it didn't seem right, Sirius had always seemed indifferent when his brother was brought up, and it seemed difficult to believe that he considered Aeschylus to be like a son to him.

They continued to sift through the documents, searching for anything that would connect the dots, but just as the information in the study, there was either nothing or only vague mentions or records of the child. They read over letters, personal papers, notes, and journal entries, everything. But nothing came up; the only mention of Regulus's child was in Sirius's letter to him.

Harry signed heavily and leaned his head against the desk hopelessly, feeling emptier now than when he had started. It was getting later and later into the night and soon it would be the 3rd day, and he would be leaving to seek out Tom and find answers.

Or what if it was all a trap? What if he was just going to mindlessly slaughter him like everyone told him he did to other people? Was he really the mindless killer the world made him out to be? Harry seriously doubted he was the scum on the bottom of Good Will's shoe, but the general population seemed to be convinced he was. But since when did Harry believe in the "general population"? Or rather, when had the general population ever believed in **him**?

Never. Only after something tragic or completely ridiculous happened did anyone believe in him.

"Hermione, what time is it?" Harry queried, jolting the young Gryffindor girl out of her trance, she delicately set the paper she had been reading down in her lap like a baby and checked her wristwatch.

"It's going on 11 o' clock." She yawned rather cutely, covering her mouth with her left hand.

"I should probably get back to my room and get my things together." Harry mused aloud. He began to stand but stopped when his legs cramped up, rubbing his knees in pain.

"So you've decided to go meet him, then?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer. She twiddled her thumbs from her spot on the floor, the parchment on her lap completely neglected at this point.

"Yeah, I have." He said, his voice shaking a little more, not conveying the firm tone he had wanted to speak with.

There was a long pregnant silence between then, Harry deciding it was time for him to go so he could prepare to take his leave, almost at the door he heard Hermione whisper,

"I want to go with you."

He stopped in front of the double doors, frozen in place by her words. She could not, she would not, it was not possible.

"Hermione. ." he began, but she cut him off. "I don't care; it's not up to you. If I want to go, then I will go." She stated, leaving no room for argument.

Harry knew Tom wasn't going to like it, was going to be severely pissed, but he'd have to deal. Because Hermione could be much more scary when she was aggravated than any Dark Lord.

"Fine. Get your stuff together; bring **only** things you'll need though." Before he could finish his sentence, Hermione was already halfway out of the room. If it wasn't her curiosity that was carrying her in this direction, it was her immense love and care for Harry. He was the only friend she really truly had.

* * *

6:30 AM:

By the time, Harry had his things packed and ready to go the sun was creeping up over the hills, bathing his naked windows and room in a warm glow. He pressed his hand against the glass pane of the window and felt chills run up and down his spine, wrapping their cold hands around his bones and muscles. He withdrew the appendage and stared at the near empty room.

He had compressed almost all his belongings into boxes and trunks and had them stacked at the bottom of his bed, so it would be more organized for whoever had to move his stuff to storage or whatever once he left. He didn't know how long he'd be gone for, so it seemed like a good idea.

The possessions he did want to take however, were laying a top his bed, neatly lined up next to each other. Folded on the left end of the bed was his invisibility cloak, the mirror Sirius had given him, his favorite Gryffindor themed scarf, one of Sirius's t-shirts, three of his favorite books, and a pair of pajamas. He decided that he'd go clothing shopping if it was absolutely necessary.

He walked slowly over to the bed and began to place the items inside a plain black book bag that he had used for school. He got his wand off the bedside table and put it in his pocket where it was usually kept, and slid his glasses onto his face. His stomach turned repeatedly as he put the book bag outside the window on the side roof facing the garden.

He looked around the room. Empty. Just like him. He walked out the door and didn't look back.

* * *

8:00 AM:

Breakfast for Harry, Ron and Hermione was silent. The trio ate their eggs and toast without muttering a single word to each other. Harry and Hermione stole occasional glances at each other, nerves getting to them towards the end of the meal.

After they had put their dishes away and Ron had left the room did Harry dare to speak.

"Have you gotten all your things together?" He worried, hands wrenching. He leaned against he counter and looked outside past the garden to the woods that lie beyond. His stomach flip-flopped again.

"Yes." Hermione nodded for extra confirmation.

"Everyone plans on leaving to return to school and home at around 5:00. So we'll have to leave before then." Harry murmured, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. "How about 4:30? That gives us time to sneak out without anyone noticing, and it'll be a little dusky outside by then." He suggested. Hermione nodded.

"I suppose we can't say goodbye to anyone?" She whispered, sadness and nervousness dripping like blood from the question.

"No Hermione, I'm sorry." He pulled her over and hugged her tight, ruffling her hair when he pulled away. "Don't worry, we'll get to see everyone again soon." He reassured.

Harry thought about not being able to hug Sirius goodbye when he had fallen through the veil, about how he hadn't been able to hold his hand as the life left his eyes. All he had seen was a gaunt, hollow faced man drifting so far away. He shook the thought from his head. It was time to be strong. It was time to be a man.

He and Hermione left the kitchen without saying another word to each other. They went to their respective rooms to wait alone for the time to come. Harry curled up with Sirius's shirt and read a book, hoping the time would go by quickly.

* * *

4:20 PM:

They were outside, crouched on the kitchen roof. Hermione's jeans were ripped at the knee, she had snagged the denim on a nail crawling out the window. They were staring outside at the garden before them, the voices below in the kitchen could be heard drifting out the windows and doors and the cracks in the walls, swept on the wind to be swirled around in the air for passerby's to hear. Harry pulled out his wand and whispered,

"Accio book bag." And waited. Before long his backpack come soaring around from the left side, he grabbed it before looking at Hermione.

"Ready?" He said, before putting one foot down the right side of the roof and onto the drainpipe. He'd have to crawl down the wall and use the ivy as a sort of ladder. He was just setting one foot down onto the wall when he heard Hermione whisper something from up above him and the vines began to wrap around his leg and lift him out above the ground below.

"Hermione, what did you do!?" He screeched rather unlike himself.

"Just calm down and let it lower you to the ground." She whispered, her leg wrapped in the ivy in the same fashion as him. He screwed his eyes shut and relaxed.

Before he knew it, his sneakers had hit soil. He opened his eyes and saw Hermione brushing herself off next to him.

"I did it so neither of us would fall and hurt ourselves and the whole plan would be ruined. You should be thanking me." She announced, sounding rather proud of herself. Harry shot her a glare and she huffed before whining, "Don't look at me like that Harry James Potter."

She smacked his arm playfully and Harry smiled. He pulled the backpack off his shoulder and pulled out the invisibility cloak. Hermione came closer and Harry wrapped his arm around her waist before lifting the cloak around them.

He could hear Hermione's breath on his cheek, and the rub of the fabric against his arm as they walked briskly through the garden. Every nerve ending in his body burned as they advanced towards the forest at a steady pace. He was digging his fingernails into his palms to calm himself, and it didn't take very long for him to feel a slight wetness run down his arm. He wiped the blood on his pant leg and ignored the sting in his skin.

The wind whipped around them and stung his eyes underneath the cloak, the cold rush of air causing his forest green orbs to water. They were inches away from the edge of the forest, there feet lifting off the gravel path of the garden and colliding with the green grass separating the two properties - separating two worlds, two sides of the balance scale. Once they were beyond the first set of trees the started to run, every ration thought or notion flying from their minds to be left in the dust at their feet. The cloak flew off from around then and Harry had to grab it before it was blown away.

He looked around but only saw blurs of things. Trees, birds, flowers, squirrels, were all swimming together in a mass of chaos and color. His feet pounded into the Earth, showing a decisive footpath. Nobody was going to stop him, not even himself. There was no turning back now.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled from next to him, both of them still running full force. Harry almost jumped when he heard her yell his name, he had almost forgotten she was there. "Where are we supposed to meet him at?" He could hear the freedom in her voice, it was fresh and alive. He loved it.

"I'm not sure, he just said beyond the forest in the note!" he yelled back, relishing in the sound of his own voice, loving the way it bounced off the trees and came crashing back into his sensitive ears.

And then, almost as if on cue, his scar began to tingle. Only slightly, but enough to signal Harry that they were getting closer to their destination. He signaled Hermione to follow him and slow down.

They decided on a steady jog, trying to keep their energy. Harry took in his surroundings, assessed the area, and made judgments based on the pull of his magic and the feelings in his heart. It told him to go left, and quickly. He did just that.

He began to run again, as a feeling of urgency washed over him. He didn't know why, or what was causing it, but he just **knew** that he needed to run again, get to Tom as quickly as possible.

He leaped over a log and collided with the Earth, tumbling over twigs and rocks and rotting leaves. He landed face down in a pile of dirt, he closed his eyes and breathed heavily. He wanted to throw up, and then sleep. Hermione pulled him up off the ground and stared him straight in the eye.

"Harry, I think we're being followed." she whispered, her mouth as close to his ear as physically possible.

"Are you sure?" He asked, jumpy now that he figured out the reason why he had wanted to get to Tom so quickly.

"I'm about 78 percent sure." She mumbled, making more calculations in her head as she said it.

"That's more than enough for me, c'mon let's go." He grabbed her hand and started sprinting again. The tingle in his scar had now become a burn, they were so close.

Everything started to blur together again, the only tangible thing being the feel of Hermione's skin against his own as the dodged trees and bushes and ran through puddles of mud and rainwater. The word felt so lush around them it was hard to ignore. The smell of the forest burned his lungs as he sped through the plants and animals.

And then all of it stopped, and Harry ran straight into a broad chest as they tumbled into a clearing. Harry tumbled over the person, letting go of Hermione's hand in the process and landed on top of the person's legs, his face once again in the ground.

"What the -" Harry started, lifting up his head, but his mouth stopped working. Blood red eyes, crimson as apples, dark and deep as blood. Staring straight at him. He felt his heart stop beating in his chest, then start up again.

"Harry, so glad you could make it." Tom hissed, standing up and brushing the dirt from his clothes. "And I see you brought a friend." He stated, glancing at Hermione who said "Hello" rather quietly. Tom reached down and flung Harry upwards, looking him straight in the eye.

"Well, I suppose the three of us must be going." Tom said, glancing behind him as he began to walk towards the middle of the clearing where a birch tree grew. "You know you're being followed?" He asked.

"Of course we knew, we're not daft!" Harry snapped, before catching his temper.

"I should have known you'd be incapable of going undetected, since your very being hungers for attention, Harry." Tom said in a monotone, nothing meant by his words. Yet, every syllable, consonant, and vowel tore at Harry. He quickly walked over to where Tom was standing under the tree.

"Come along now, we have much to do!" He yelled, getting the two teenagers attention. "The tree is a portkey, place your hands upon it." Tom instructed and the two Gryffindors obeyed like trained puppies.

"Where is it going to take us?" Hermione asked, suspicion showing through clearly on her features.

"It is going to take us to my home." Tom said. "Now, Hermione I understand that you do not trust me, but please refrain from asking **too** many questions." He hissed, sounding like the snake the world knew him as.

But, surprisingly, Hermione smiled at his words instead of looking hurt. Before Harry could comment he felt a hooking sensation behind his navel and he was tore from everything he had ever known, and pulled into something new, something exciting.

* * *

So I think this was a fairly good lenght. It's a little over 4,000 words which is a lot longer than I usually write, but it was fun.

Tell me what you think of having it set by times, like 4:00 AM:, 7:00 PM:, that stuff. Like it, hate it, don't care? I love to hear your thoughts and feelings!

Review! =D


	3. I Hope To Watch You Writhe Again Soon

Here's the third chapter! I know it's a little later than usual, but I had a hard time deciding on what to dow tih all the back history given in this chapter. But I hope a lot of questions are answered! Harry's starting to develop relationships & such in this chapter, which is good. I think. =P

Tom may seem a little OOC in this chapter, but it's only because of Hermione being empathic and having to talk about old memories that are sensitive and such. Plus, he's not as heartless as everyone thinks, as you find out.

Anyway, here it is!

**Disclaimer; don't own, don't sue.**

Enjoy.

* * *

**Find a cure; find a cure for my life. Find a cure; find a cure for my life.**

5:00 PM:

When Harry opened his eyes he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Before his mind could react to his surroundings he had torn his wand from his pocket and had it aimed at the people surrounding them. His leg muscles were pulled taut, poised for an attack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins in outrageous amounts, screaming through his capillaries and blood vessels, tearing its way into his heart, clouding his brain from any rash thought. His fingers fit perfectly with his wand, ready for battle. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably, but were steadied by a cold pale hand.

"Don't worry; they will not harm you, Harry." Tom reassured him, pulling the wand from the clutches of Harry's fingers, tucking it back into the teen's pocket.

"Don't worry? You've brought us into a room full of bloody Deatheaters!" The Boy-Who-Lived shrieked. "Deatheaters who have up until now, been out to get me!" He flailed his arms for added dramatic affect, eliciting a very frustrated sigh from Tom.

"I realize this, but they are under **my** command, in case you have forgotten." He hissed, shooting the young Potter a pointed glare. Harry didn't answer, opting to stay silent instead. He didn't think it was the best time to talk. He and Hermione stood quietly as Tom instructed the Deatheaters to do this, and say that and so on and so forth. Harry had to continually remind himself that he was there for a greater purpose; he was there to seek out answers and start a new. But he couldn't dispel the nervous worms wriggling around in his gut, crawling through his entrails, carving a path for its brethren.

"You are dismissed, except Bellatrix, Severus and the Malfoy's." Tom commanded, gesturing towards the aforementioned Deatheaters. They approached and bowed respectfully. Harry felt inhuman amounts of bile rise up into his throat.

"Please, everyone have a seat." Tom instructed, gracefully sitting down upon a plush crimson armchair. Harry looked around to see they were in a study, having been too preoccupied upon entry to notice. But now, upon further observation, he noticed how grand of a room it was. Walls lined with bookshelves of extraordinary detail and design, long elegant serpents having been etched upon bookcases. Dragon and Basilisk bookends enclosed thousands of magical texts that were undoubtedly rare beyond all belief. Deep red walls were decorated with portraits of steely men, with black hair and a fierce gaze. Harry felt a shiver slide down his spine. The furniture of the room was all rich mahogany or cherry wood and of the finest quality, resting upon a large intricately woven Persian rug, featuring a golden dragon wrapped around the sun.

"What is this place? Where are we?" Harry queried, not caring that he had interrupted a conversation. "It feels strangely familiar." Harry whispered, just loud enough to be heard.

"This is Slytherin Manor, Harry." Tom stated with an unusual note of softness in his voice. "I would have taken you and Miss Granger to my other home, Riddle Manor, but it's being refurbished." He stated nonchalantly, as if the on goings of his personal estates was a completely normal subject to discuss with the boy whose live you had destroyed. Harry snorted to himself, making sure nobody heard it.

"So, Harry and I have come for some answers, obviously." Hermione whispered, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived. The fright in her eyes was clear as day, and Harry reached over from where they were standing near the desk and grabbed her hand comfortingly. Her hand was icy like winter's breath upon his skin.

"Yes, of course." Tom smiled, gesturing for them to sit down on the love seat across from him, adjacent to Bellatrix. Harry felt the bile rise up in his throat again. All he could see when he looked at her was Sirius's face staring back at him, dead. He screwed his eyes shut and willed the image away. He couldn't think of his god-father now, it wasn't the right time. '_There will be a time to grieve for him, it just isn't right now.'_ Harry whispered to himself, willing his feet to walk over to the loveseat.

The soft fabric enveloped him warmly, forcing his muscles to relax into the cushions. '_Definitely not the type of furniture I'd imagine the heir to Slytherin owning, or entertaining guests with for that matter._' Harry thought, smiling to himself. He looked at the inhabitants of the room around him, studied the faces of Severus Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, all of which had been uncharacteristically quiet.

"I'm assuming Harry told you about the dream he had?" Tom solicited Hermione, his voice holding a commanding air to it, as if the words were going to implant themselves into Hermione's brain and force her to do as he asked.

"Of course," She replied shrewdly. Tom smirked at her answer before re-directing his attention to Harry. The dark haired man stood abruptly from his gold trimmed armchair and began pacing, but not nervously.

Harry felt the heat radiating from the man as he kneeled on the floor in front of the boy, eyes piercing through every part of Harry completely. The mussy haired youth inhaled sharply, feeling every aspect of his appearance being memorized, picked apart, **and analyzed**. He felt thoroughly scandalized, and his features must have portrayed that because Tom smirked up as him, Harry decided it was a much more pleasing look for the Dark Lord. It made him seem less Dracula and more Gandhi. Or something like that.

"Someone should have told you earlier." Tom mused, his eyes drifting along Harry's angled jaw, wondering if it felt as sharp as it looked. He shook the thought abruptly from his mind. He didn't need thoughts like that hindering his communication abilities right now. It was time to get down to business.

"Well since someone neglected to do so, I'd appreciate it if you indulged me, I'm dying for answers." Harry droned sarcastically, making Tom hiss aggravated.

"Good to know Albus succeeded in raising you to be a disrespectful brat." Tom chided, hoping to rouse the boy's temper a little bit. He wanted to see what Harry was capable of emotionally.

"Listen, **Riddle**," Tom felt a bitter taste in his mouth at the emphasis put upon his muggle last name. "The only reason I'm tolerating your presence right now is because you promised to explain to me what was going on and what the dream I had is about." Tom noticed that Harry was gripping the arm of the loveseat with unparalleled strength, nearly crushing the strong oak into woodchips. He exhaled deeply at the thought that Harry could be that strong physically so early in his long, long, life.

"Harry?" Tom said as he stared into deep forest green eyes that seemed to possess all the knowledge of the world and yet still hungered for more.

"Yes, Tom?" The young Potter answered reluctantly.

"I want you to forget everything you know about the Wizarding Society we live in today," he glanced around the room, his eyes catching Hermione. "That goes for you too Hermione." The two teenagers nodded in acknowledgement.

"When I was a little boy at the muggle orphanage in London I had already been on this Earth for 50 years." Hermione gasped and Harry just looked dumfounded. Tom took back the thought that Harry's eyes possessed all the knowledge of the world. "I'm part vampire, Harry." Tom stated. Harry looked at him even more stupidly, but now he looked as if Tom had grown an extra head.

"Well, duh, you were. I mean a moron could have figured that out." Harry spat, not realizing that Tom's lineage was a generally well kept secret and for Harry to assume that a person of little intelligence could even fathom to figure it out was outrageous beyond all normal thought.

'_Then again, Harry's thoughts aren't all too normal.'_ Tom thought bemusedly.

"Well anyway," Tom continued. "As it so happened, a certain Albus Dumbledore had been walking the Earth for quite the amount of time, too. About 250 years I'd estimate." Tom smiled wistfully, as if this statement brought him great joy. Another foreseen gasp from Hermione was emitted at this. Harry didn't show any emotions towards Tom's revelation.

"Has your opinion of your headmaster not change Harry at knowing this?" Tom asked, curiosity bettering his usually rash and uncaring personality.

"I will always love and care for Albus, no matter whom or what he is or does." Harry confirmed. "Just as long as he doesn't decide to eat me." The boy added as an after thought, eliciting light chuckles from the occupants of the room.

"Well now that that's cleared up, it's time we begun our little tale." Tom grinned widely, Harry could tell he had been aching to tell Harry all of this, and that made the younger feel slightly endeared to the warped man.

"When Albus took me to Hogwarts he had only one intention: raising me properly as a vampiric child and companion to him. He had obviously gone a very long time without any form of friendship and was obviously longing to have someone to share his thoughts and feelings with." Tom murmured the last part sadly, as if he was just fully coming to understand the years of loneliness Dumbledore must have experienced.

"He taught me many things, cared for me, and when I finally reached my magical and vampiric maturity, he became my best friend." Harry's eyebrows knitted together at this, feeling slightly uneasy at the thought that Tom and the headmaster he adored and felt a strong sense of idolatry towards would be best friends.

"We united the Wizarding World in a way that was unheard of. Light and Dark co-existed perfectly. Both of us governed both sides, consulting each other for every major decision." Tom paused in his story to look off into the distance for a moment, Harry was almost sure he wouldn't return to the conversation until abruptly began speaking again. "Of course there was the Minister and such, but even he co-existed with Albus and I's order. It was idyllic." He sighed dreamily, obviously remembering the good-old-days.

"So what happened that destroyed it all?" Hermione piped up, excitement and wonder gleaming in her warm hazelnut eyes. Tom chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"That is what I'm getting to, if you give me a moment." Harry noticed that Tom often fiddled with things between his index and thumb when he was discontent or worried.

"Sirius and Regulus Black were both part of our Order. They were wonderful, wonderful, people." The Dark Lord continued, eyes travelling sorrowfully to Harry at the mention of the boy's now dead godfather. The grief that was carefully clouded in Harry's eyes did not go unseen by Tom. An unseen knife twisted in the man's gut at the look upon his face.

"I was rather good friends with both of them. They were most certainly the biggest trouble makers I had ever stumbled upon." Harry smiled at these words, and Tom was glad to see the semi-happy emotions creep onto the younger's face, even if it was sort of bitter sweet. "The two of them along with James and Remus, they would get into the strangest and most bothersome sort of trouble!" Tom exclaimed, a very strong memory brimming at the corners of his eyes, swimming in the glow of his red eyes.

Snape snorted in the corner at the mention of the Marauder's escapades. The potion's master knew them all too well.

"But the most peculiar thing about them was, Sirius and Regulus, although brothers were soul-bonded mates." Tom revealed. He caught the slight widening of Harry's eyes at the no longer secret, said boy biting his lip in order to not interrupt the monologue.

"Oh yes, they were in love those two. And so naturally they wanted to have children." Tom continued, Harry didn't think he'd ever see so much emotion on the insane man's face, even if it was only a tiny bit at the most. "Albus and Severus were devising a potion at the time that would enable them to conceive. But Sirius had had a dream," Harry looked at the floor at the mention of his godfather and his godfather's brother having children. It sounded almost ridiculous to him. "A dream in which Regulus was hanging mangled from the chandelier at Grimmauld Place." Tom whispered, and Harry understood why Sirius might have felt a certain urgency to have a kid.

"So, they all agreed upon Sirius having the child with Lily Potter and then Regulus being magically bound as the child's "mother" if you will." The delight in those sinister eyes amused Hermione and she soon found herself giggling slightly. How could she be so comfortable in any of the occupants of the room's presences? It was ludicrous! These were people who would and could have killed her, and yet she was sitting with them, in a warm cozy study, listening to The Dark Lord Voldemort reminisce and recollect fond memories which had been forgotten for so long.

"And so, the child we know as Aeschylus came to be." Tom murmured, voice grave from his spot on the floor in front of Harry. He had shifted his position so that he was sitting cross legged right in front of the teen, his left knee resting against Harry's shin. The look of intensity the two shared at that moment sent chills down everyone's spines.

"Aeschylus is me, isn't he? Sirius and Regulus. . . they were. ." Harry's voice trailed off as he stared at his hands, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He would not cry, not in front of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange, and most certainly not in front of Severus Snape! It wasn't happening. But he couldn't bite back the urge to let the liquid sadness spill over his eyelashes and run screaming down his cheeks in a frightened frenzy. His fingers shook as he dug his nails into the soft flesh of the palm of his hand. He was seeing red spots when Hermione reached over and ran a hand through his tangled nest of brunette locks.

"Yes, Harry James Potter is really, Aeschylus Andante Merlin Black." Harry felt his stomach screaming in agony; he would have thrown up if there had been anything left in his stomach to regurgitate. He couldn't take all of this at once, he couldn't digest this. He had been living an intricately woven lie for the better part of his life, and now, all of a sudden that carefully crafted pattern was coming unraveled.

"Harry, I know this is all a shock to you, but you must bear through until the end of the story. I'm not quite finished." Tom whispered. Harry could feel the man's eyes pouring over him even while he was looking down at his lap. The gaze burned his skin in a way that was unfamiliar to the Woy-Who-Lived. He whipped his eyes wearily before nodding his head in agreement, willing away any thoughts about his newly discovered fathers.

"After you were born everything was altogether different. Everyone was exceptionally more happy, but most importantly your godparents were selected."

"Most regrettably." Said a monotone voice from the back corner, Severus having spoken for the first time all night. A resounding smack was heard and Bellatrix cuffed him upside the head.

"That was completely unnecessary Severus." She scolded, causing Severus to give Bella sour look. "I am more than proud to be his godparent, as should you!" She breathed, her obnoxiously frazzled hair waving around her head in a very dramatic affect.

"Wait a minute; Bellatrix and Snape are my **godparents**!" Harry shrieked, pushing himself into the back cushion of the love seat in shock. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Yes, along with James and Lily Potter." Severus stated before Tom could get a word out. "Since Sirius was light and Regulus dark, they each picked two godparents to govern your life if either or both of them perished." Snape drawled, looking thoroughly pleased with the look of utter and sheer shock upon Harry's face.

'_I have to stay calm. I have to be mature about this.'_ Harry reminded himself in his mind.

"Your parents also left explicit instructions that stated that you should be raised in my household, under Narcissa and I's watchful eye. Of course, your godparents would also be present." Lucius Malfoy breathed, the usual pretentious look having melted from his features as he had become more and more relaxed into the atmosphere of the study.

"I believe those wishes would have been fulfilled had the order not been in such a mess after Lily and James were murdered. Things had been tense enough because Regulus had been murdered only six or seven months prior." Bellatrix cut in, twirling a curl around her finger tiredly as her eyes became etched with despair. "Everyone suspected each other, was ready to point fingers at anyone, constantly looking for a scapegoat." She whispered.

Tom becoming thoroughly frustrated with the fact that his Deatheaters had stolen the stage, continued on, "Dumbledore was so frightened that the man who murdered your parents would came after you again that he did what he deemed appropriate and placed you with the Dursleys, a house that was safest for you at the time." Harry scoffed at this.

"Safe! How was I safe with people who maimed me for existing! People who's only whim in life was to make me miserable!" Harry howled, long forgotten rage towards his muggle "caretakers" rekindling, making his insides curl like a writhing snake.

"I know, and if things had been different Albus would have been more than happy to hand you over to Lucius and Narcissa, but as it was, that could not be done." Tom reassured. He did not want Harry to think badly of Dumbledore for making that decision. He had, after all, kept Harry safe for a good amount of time.

Harry's chest heaved heavily as he calmed himself, letting the adrenaline pumping through him settle to the bottom like salt in water. He wasn't going to let his temper flare any more tonight, not if he could help it.

"Then what about you?" Harry asked, looking down at Tom who was now almost sprawled out across the floor, looking rather comfortable. "Why did you kill people and become the Dark Lord you are today? Why did you claim to have killed my mom and dad?" Harry bombarded him with question after question, a dam of inquiries breaking open in his mind.

"Harry, you must understand how close we all were back then. Every single one of us felt a strong sense of camaraderie and love towards one another. So to have three of our own brutally murdered, and then the order that we had strived to keep together fall apart right before us. ." Tom trailed off, a brief flash of moroseness crept across his face, but quickly disappeared. "It was enough to make some of us go temporarily insane." He finished.

Harry saw how that could be possible, and nodded his head for Tom to continue. "But, you must understand Harry, I was always a Dark Lord. As Albus was always the Light Lord. I simply took action back then in a much different way, but I'm slowly reforming back to that way." Tom cooed almost, proud of his own accomplishment. "But, Albus has been helping me in secret." The Slytherin heir included, looking rather mischievous.

"So you and Dumbledore never fell out of contact after Lily and James had been murdered?" Hermione inquired. Harry could tell she had been picking all of this apart rather intricately, looking for flaws or loose ends.

"Never, we had been companions for quite some time, after all." Tom smiled. Hermione still looked slightly uncertain. "He and I are trying to bring the sides back together as they once were. But the same people that killed those dearest to you Harry are trying to stop that." Tom asserted. "But most of all, they're trying to find you. Because you have the power to defeat them." He hummed.

"I don't understand." Harry muttered rather bluntly. "I'm not that powerful." He added for extra measure.

"Or so you think." Tom whispered his voice like the smoky fog above the dewy ground that clings to the air so delicately just before dawn. "You are very special Harry, for fate had plans when she united Sirius, Lily, and Regulus together to create you." The Lord buzzed, excited to finally be sharing the information that he found most interesting.

"You are, like me and Albus, part vampire." The minimal reaction in Harry's face disheartened Tom, he had hoped the boy would be bounding with the emotion he usually displayed. "You are also of Dark Elf lineage, but we are unsure of the correct Family Line you descend from." Harry smiled widely at this, and Tom drank up the beaming look on the boys face.

"That explains my forest green eyes. I inherited that from my mother." Harry stated intuitively, already having known that his mum had been a Dark Elf. He was rather proud of the fact actually.

"So you already knew of that family root? Interesting." Tom stored that information away for later before continuing, "Lastly, you are of the heritage of Merlin, hence your second middle name." Tom finished. Hermione squeaked at this, obviously elated at the fact that Harry was a descendant of Merlin. The young Gryffindor would undoubtedly unearth a ton of books for Harry to read about his relatives over the next few weeks. His head began to spin just thinking about it.

"And the reason why Harry isn't magically exception yet is because he hasn't come into any of his three magical heritages yet!" Hermione cried out. Tom confirmed her suspicions.

Everything was spinning around Harry at this point, much like it had been at the Order meeting only a day or so ago. His world felt like it was being rushed about, forced to run too many errands at once so that when it finally came time to rest his head was so completely contorted and spun around that his skull broke free of his neck and rolled across the room. The Boy-Who-Lived wanted nothing more than a nice plush bed and some hot tea at this point. Then, almost as if reading his thoughts, Tom yelled out "Cracky!" and a house elf popped in front of him.

"Yes Master?" The house elf asked, bowing deeply to his master. Hermione smiled, pleased at the nice condition the house elf seemed to be in.

"Fetch some tea for out guests." He commanded and the house elf crackled away after bowing again.

"How did you know I wanted tea?" Harry grilled, suspicious to say the least.

"I can read minds. It's a vampiric gift." Tom stated. Hermione began fidgeting in her seat at this, and Tom glanced over knowingly.

"Our dear Hermione has a vampiric gift, though she does not bear the burden of the blood-lust. She's empathic."

Harry didn't seem the least bit surprised, as it seemed was a normal thing when the boy was presented with news that was even slightly shocking. He had a wonderful talent of appearing indifferent about almost everything.

"Well, I do believe it's time for me to head to bed, My Lord." Bellatrix yawned, covering his mouth with her spindly, bony, hand. Lucius, Narcissa and Severus all agreed, stating they were most ready to retire to bed as it was almost midnight. They had been talking for almost six hours.

"I do hope I'll get to speak to you more tomorrow, Aeschylus." Bellatrix breathed, her voice reverberating off her sallow cheeks. She ruffled Harry's hair slightly, he blushed slightly at the attention. It felt odd, yet comforting to be affectionate with Bellatrix.

Once the others had filed out of the room Tom stood up and stretched, his back cracking in several different places like a jockey's whip. Harry watched as Tom curved his back into a crescent moon, looking oddly like that of a cat. His long torso and thin sides only adding to the fact. He didn't look over 24, yet Harry knew he was at least 100 years old by now.

"Albus will be coming to visit tomorrow, along with a few other people." Tom huffed as he looked through the bookcase. He couldn't seem to locate the book he wanted to read.

"You two should get to bed." His voice trailed off into a soft murmur as he continued scanning book spines. "Cracky will show you to your rooms. And, yes, Hermione, you may borrow _Systematically Loving Hate_ By Salathzar Slytherin for the night. I must say, you'll probably enjoy is quite thoroughly." He pulled a book off a shelf and tossed it to Hermione as he said this, his eyes never leaving the shelves in front of him.

Hermione and Harry made to exit the room, but something possessed Harry to stay a moment. His heart felt different, it was pulling him towards Tom. Harry was standing directly behind the man before he could stop himself.

"Yes, Harry?" Tom asked, his usual sarcastic and snippy tone back. Harry enjoyed that side of the Dark Lord most, he was beginning to think. He leaned forward and rested his head on Tom's back, his forehead nestling into the erecter spinal muscles.

"Thank you." Harry breathed, before walking out of the room. Tom smiled crookedly as he pulled a book off the shelf and curled up on the couch, picking up his place in the muggle book he had been reading. He could feel Harry's energy and mind drifting off to light sleep, knowing that soon Harry wouldn't sleep at all due to his Vampire heritage.

He sighed, thinking of the weeks to come. '_It's going to be a long, long, long, month._' He thought, relaxing into the cushion of the chair.

Oh, Tom, you have **no** idea.

* * *

Gah, I just love the idea of Tom & Albus being biffles! =D

Review, please? I really love to hear your opinions, thoughts, idea, suggestions, anything! It's really motivating, like Weight Watchers.

3


	4. Play Russian Roulette As We Kiss

Newest chapter is up! Next chapter we delve into the minds of Albus, Severus and Bellatrix. And there will be more Tom/Harry.

Get excited! =D

**disclaimer; don't own, don't sue.**

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**Did I say that I loathe you?**

**Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?**

4:45 AM:

Tom couldn't sleep; he could feel the inhabitants of the entire mansion swelling around him. It was almost as if every single person in the entire household had its very own energetic signature that only Tom could sense. He tried to relax his muscles into the cushion of the chair, but the fabric couldn't soothe his aching mind. He stared of the book on the night stand next to him absent mindedly, wondering idly if he should read it or not. He didn't think he had the attention span to accomplish that at the moment, every thought he had was fleeting, fluttering about his brain in a strange rhythm of randomness. Nothing seemed to make sense, corners overlapping where they shouldn't, words meshing with other declarations and simple statements to create an intricate web of misguided and indecipherable phrases. The thoughts of Lucius drifted into his mind, and he quickly pushed them away. He did not want to be bothered with the ideas and images of other's colorful minds.

Tom fisted his hands into his hair, tugging slightly at the brunette locks. For a moment he almost lost his composure and yelled, but quickly caught himself. His fingers trembled slightly, intertwined in strands of wavy hair. Why did everything have to be so infuriatingly complicated?

Harry had come; he had even brought someone he trusted with him. Tom should be elated that the boy even considered his offer in the first place, but he remembered that Albus would have made the meeting of the two inevitable eventually. The old coot was always meddling into things that should remain untouched and dusty on a far off, distant and generally forgotten corner or shelf. He smirked crookedly at the thought of the old man.

He felt unreasonably jealous towards the grand-father-like man because Harry trusted him unconditionally. The same couldn't be said about the young Gryffindor feelings toward Tom. He wanted Harry to understand everything, to trust him, to see the world around him through the daring and adventurous eyes that Tom saw through. He wanted Harry to understand all of the Dark Lord's ideals down to the very core moral meaning, to observe and dissect his thoughts and ideas about the laws and government of the Wizarding World today.

He wanted to share knowledge for Harry that he knew the boy undoubtedly did not know, because he had ensured Sirius, Regulus and Lily that nothing bad would happen to their son. That no matter what, with no regard to what happened, Harry – no, Aeschylus would remain safe and sound. He had felt nothing but endearment towards the baby that could so easily lighten anyone's mood, no matter their temperament of mood.

He hadn't kept his promise, he had failed people he had once considered friends. He had let his friend's only son be taken to live with the Dursleys, a family that despised anything and everything magical and be forced into a sort of servitude. He had terrorized the boy's life, plaguing his thoughts with misconceptions of his alleged parent's death. Every where Harry turned, Tom was there, blocking the path with threats of death and whispered misdeeds that could make even the most sane person cringe.

But that was it, he hadn't been sane. Something had happened so shortly after Lily and James's death that had forced Tom to crawl into a never ending cycle of lunacy that he had given up the very principles and standards that he had once so passionately fought for. Thank God for Albus and his keen wit, realizing that something was so very wrong with his companion. He eventually discovered the counter curse to rid Tom of his psychosis shortly after the Sirius was released from Azkaban.

Sirius. That was another sore subject with Tom Riddle at the moment. The death of that single man had caused the largest uprising on both Light and Dark sides in a very long time. And the fact that Bellatrix had absolutely no recollection of killing her poor cousin afterwards was what was leading Tom to believe that it was another attack from the unidentified murderers that had been eluding them all for so long. They were on the move, after having been dormant for nearly fifteen years. It worried Tom that these things were out to get Harry – selfless, wholehearted, sincere Harry who had wanted nothing more than to finally have a family to care about him.

Tom vehemently regretted the fact that the boy had been deprived of that, and he cursed the heavens for being so damn cruel. Harry had finally gotten a chance to be with his real father, the man that had created him, and he had been torn away too quickly and with such disregard to the repercussions of the act that Tom felt small amounts of bile rising in his throat.

"I have to still be insane." He murmured to himself in the empty study, the warmth of the fire not even warming his skin in the slightest. "I can't be feeling things this strongly to my once sworn enemy.

Tom spread his energy out throughout the manor, trying to locate Harry's conscious. He came to a halt at the room in which Hermione was sleeping soundly in. He didn't feel Harry's presence anywhere in the general vicinity. Curiosity sparked deep inside his gut, and he wondered where the boy could have possibly gotten to this hour. He reached out farther, and farther, sweeping through hallways and corridors before he stumbled across the teen and smiled ever so slightly.

* * *

5:00 AM:

Harry couldn't sleep, not in this place. Not in Slytherin Manor where Tom Riddle lived, slept, ate, showered, breathed, and** lived**. It was unnerving. The entire place gave him the creeps. It was as if the stony walls were constantly watching him, hidden eyes peering out through thin cracks, assessing his strengths and weaknesses. It wasn't easy being in the fortress of the enemy, considering that enemy was one of the strongest wizards to ever walk the Earth.

Harry's feet shuffled along the chilly marble floor, and finally decided to stop his meanderings in front of a set of high cathedral windows that seemed to stretch up into the walls of the house, as if they were a cat languidly arching it's back so it's spine were extended to it's full length. He peered out the glass to admire the moon bathed garden below. Ivy clung to the wrought iron gate that enclosed what would be a lush area during the spring and summer. He wondered if he'd be here to see the flowers bloom and grow, be able to smell their cloying scent as it hung desperately to the breeze.

The garden reminded him of the one in the backyard of Grimmauld Place, the one that he and Hermione had snuck through not to long ago. Looking back upon it he wondered what had possessed him to do that in the first place. He should have been thinking more rationally, he should have considered the fact that this was Tom Bloody Riddle they were talking about, the man who had tried countless times to kill him.

'_No,_' he thought. '_Voldemort tried to kill me, not Tom._' He considered the thought that they could be two different people. Tom had been insane; he had morphed his soul into a deep dark creature that was more dangerous than any magical creature that inhabited the planet. But he had pulled himself out of, right? He looked perfectly sane in the study. He was speaking coherently, forming thoughts, making complete and total sense. Then why did he feel unsure?

Because he didn't trust him. Didn't trust himself. Didn't trust anyone, at this point. Even Dumbledore was starting to seem only slightly trustworthy, which was blasphemy in itself.

His eyes strayed back to the garden outside, and he noticed the dried branches of a cherry tree, and imagined what the pink petals and sweet, succulent smelling buds would look like. He really wanted to see the garden in full bloom.

"You'll get to see the garden like that, depending on the choices you make in the next few days." A voice assuaged from behind, placating Harry's thoughts. The younger wondered how he knew what he was thinking, but disregarded it.

Instead, he ground his teeth together at the familiar voice, silky smooth and arctic cold. He wanted to turn abruptly on his heel and leave suddenly, but he knew he shouldn't. He didn't know how in control of his temper Tom was. He decided on continuing to stare out the window.

"You know, it's strange how only hours ago you were chuckling with me in my study and now you are ignoring me as if I'm the plague." Tom stated dryly, not as irritated as he should be by the boy's ignorance and blatant disrespect.

"I think I'd rather the plague, thanks." Harry sneered, realizing what he said moments later. His eyes widened in horror as he tore around, half expecting to see a wand pointed in his face. Instead he saw an emotionless face. He didn't know which was more shocking.

"I didn't kill your parents, Harry. You have to understand-" Harry cut the sentence off mid-way. He didn't want to hear it.

"Understand what? That I don't trust you? Why should I? You've lied to me, everyone has! It's hard to believe anything anyone tells me anymore." The teenager howled, staring Tom in directly in the eye.

"I understand that the insanity I suffered shortly after your parents' death is no excuse for my nauseating actions and my revoltingly blatant disregard for the lives of those that suffered in my wake, but I did not kill your parents." Tom hissed, emotions flashing through his crimson eyes so quickly Harry began to doubt whether or not he saw them.

"I've suffered for my entire life because of you!" Harry screeched, sounding much like a ghastly apparition that was seeking revenge. Tom cringed at the sound. "I've never had parents or people who cared about me, and then once I do I get it torn away from me! I get left **alone**!" Tears welled unwillingly in Harry's eyes as the pent up emotions smothered him. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and rip something apart.

"You aren't alone. You have people who care about you, you have-" He was cut short again.

"I have no one." The boy muttered darkly. And for that instant it seemed that the younger's dark hair was beginning to whip about his face as if wind were blowing it about, and the air crackled harshly, and the distinct scent of raw magic and emotion was prominent in the air.

Tom froze for a moment at the fight before regaining his bearings. He steeled Harry with a look that seemed to do nothing but infuriate the boy even more. The once breeze was becoming a slight gust, swirling around him uncontrollably. And right then and there Tom knew that if he didn't so something, Harry would intentionally, or unintentionally kill him.

Tom pushed his presence into the green eyed child's mind, sensing that his barriers were fairly vulnerable. He forced a memory upon Harry, causing his mind conscious to become completely submersed in the recollection.

"_Look at him! He's got your eyes!" Tom cooed to a smiling Lily, who was cradling a small bundle in her arms. A little gurgling sound erupted from the fluff balls general area and the two people admiring it began to laugh. Tom reached over and stroked the baby's head delicately._

"_He's beautiful, Lily." The redheaded woman smiled at his words and looked at Sirius who was standing proudly off to the right. Regulus had his arm wrapped around the man with a bark for a laugh protectively. His eyes were glistening with happiness at the sight of his child. The baby gurgled again and more chuckles erupted in the room._

"_Aeschylus, look at you, drooling all over yourself. Just like Sirius." Tom whispered, whipping some of the spittle from the infant's pudgy chin. The bundle of joy smiled up cutely, his eyes big and glassy like a dolls. _

"_Tom, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were in love with the poor thing!" Sirius sniggered, sticking his tongue out childishly at the Slytherin heir._

"_Sorry that I simply care about my best friend's child, I'll try to be more of a bastard next time." Tom snapped, his temper getting the best of him. Lily placed a hand on the man's shoulder, his eyes only a lulling soft crimson in those days. Their eyes locked and there were so many unspoken words passed through that gaze in those split seconds._

"_I trust you Tom. I know you'll keep him safe." She whispered, eyes never looking away from Tom's._

"_I will. I promise." He whispered back, his voice equally as serious and emotion as Lily's had been. Everything faded out, the last sounds being a soft giggle coming from the unknowing Aeschylus, resting safely in his mother's arms._

When Harry came to and Tom fled the teens mind, he found that Tom eyes were piercing him. The wind had stopped and the snapping of magic around them had died down. They two males locked gazes just as Harry's mother and Tom had moments ago in the memory.

"Do you really think that I'd kill someone that meant that much to me?" The snake like man seethed, every word stabbing at the air incessantly, as if it could make the emotions swirling around the air die and leave. Harry dropped to the ground and stared at the stone floors, the feeling of them against his palms contrasting marginally. The rock felt so cool and slick against the steaming palm of his hand, goose bumps rose up on his arms. Why was he being such an insecure freak about this? His arms shook as the muscles strained to keep him upright.

"I don't expect you to trust me Harry. But at least listen to what I have to say." Tom chided, his works biting away at the skin on Harry's cheeks, leaving the flesh rosy and flushed. He felt embarrassed for throwing a temper tantrum, and for acting so foolishly.

"I just don't know how to react to all of this." Harry muttered while pulling his legs up against his chest, then resting his head on his knees with a thud he sighed. "Everything is changing so quickly. I feel like I don't belong in my skin anymore, is that weird?" The brunette's eyes drifted towards Tom expectantly. '_He looks so. . .human.'_ Harry mused, shivering.

"No, it isn't weird at all." Tom kneeled down in front of the spot Harry was plopped down on the floor. He slowly lowered himself down until he was sitting cross legged on the freezing tiles. "Actually, you've been handling this entire situation with much more ease and grace than I expected." Tom chuckled, not at all surprised when Harry looked up at him childishly, a sense of pride in his forest green orbs.

"Really?"

"Really." Tom confirmed. "I expected a much larger fit than the one you just threw." He said, monotone voice carrying through the air.

"Well you'd throw a fit too if someone told you that your parents were really different people and they were both murdered by an unknown source, and the people you trusted had lied to you about said parentage, then your mortal enemy invites you over to his great-great-grandfather's manor for some tea to tell you that you're a vampire and a bloody elf! And not to mention a descendant of Merlin!" Harry huffed, his irritation swelling up again. "I think you'd be the slightest bit upset." The boy shot the elder of the two a look before pressing his chin back to the tops of his bony patellas.

"Well, theoretically, we're all Merlin's "children." The blood is just slightly more prominent in your veins." Tom prompted, making Harry flush even darker than he was currently. He'd blame it on the conspicuously warm halls yet the marginally colder floors clashing as causing him to blush fervently.

"How much more prominent?" He solicited. He needed to know. "Would you say 50% more prominent? 45%?" He asked, making Tom chuckle even more. Harry decided he preferred the chuckle and small smile over the usual scowl on his face. I mean seriously, scowls don't look good on **anyone's** face, Tom Riddle included.

"I'd say about 8% more prominent." Tom satisfied, smirking even more when Harry make a 'whew' sound. "But that 8% counts for a lot!" He added that, making sure Harry understood the gravity of it all.

"I just don't like being extremely different from everyone else. I just want to fit in, you know?" But then Harry realized that Tom probably didn't know, because when he had been a teenager he had always been trying to impress everyone with his blood status and the fact that he was Slytherin's heir. Tom shook his hair in response to the question, not discussing it further.

"Tom, I. . ." He trailed off for a moment, straightening up his back. "I want to say I'm sorry." He whispered, but to Tom's ears the words sounded more like a shout.

"For what?" He asked incredulously, but didn't let Harry answered. "I should be the one apologizing to you Harry; I've made your life a living hell for so many years." The soft hint of remorse in Tom's voice was enough to make Harry say his next words:

"I've already forgiven you." Tom looked skeptical and confused at the teen's words. "I'm giving you a second chance. To start over." He confirmed, looking into the bloody, swirling, dark eyes that had haunted his nightmares for so many years. He steeled himself not to flinch.

"Harry, part of getting a second chance is taking responsibility for the mess you made in the first place." Tom whispered, lifting himself up from his position on the floor. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the tears that were rapidly forming there. When he opened his eyes back up, Tom was gone and he was sitting alone in the hallway, the only tangible thing being the floor beneath him and the lingering scent of sandalwood and lilacs swimming through the air.

* * *

8:00 AM:

The dining hall at Slytherin Manor was almost as magnificent as the one at Hogwarts. Its ceilings, much like the windows, seemed to run on forever, climbing up into the heavens to house the Gods and Goddesses. Harry couldn't stop looking up while munching on his pancakes, expecting to see Zeus or Aphrodite smiling down at him from the wispy clouds.

Hermione, on the other hand, was taking a slightly more realistic approach to the morning, the last thing on her mind being such childish things as Gods and clouds and Heavens and such. She had apparently written a list of various books and materials that Harry needed to acquire over the course of the next few months and read up on several different things that Harry had no clue about. And after she had rambled and talked Harry's ear of for 30 minutes about the 'Ethics and Principles of Proper House Elf Care' she had insisted that Harry eat more than two pancakes and a slice of toast, because, and he quotes, "If you think you're going to track down a dimension jumping, blood thirsty, crazed murderer on a meal consisting of only grains then you are solely mistaken, Harry James Potter." She then proceeded to pile sausage, eggs, oatmeal, and sugared strawberries onto his plate, along with various other things. When she couldn't fit any more food on the porcelain dish, she pushed it towards Harry.

"There you are, enjoy." She hummed, returning to picking at her own plate while immersing herself in the book Tom had let her borrow simultaneously.

Harry began nibbling on a sausage link, praying to god that he wasn't going to drop dead from poison in five minutes. He wasn't afraid of Tom poisoning him per say, it was more or less the Deatheaters that infested the manor he was frightened of. And Snape **had** given him a particularly sour look when he had passed him on the corridor leading to the room he was currently been in. It hadn't made Harry feel any more secure in the new environment.

'_I wonder what's going to happen to the hatred between me and Snape now that he's my godfather and everything....'_ Harry imagined spending the holidays at the greasy haired professors' house and going on trips to the beach and various vacations with the man. He shivered involuntarily at the thought.

Harry had just taken a particularly large bite of a piece of bacon when the colossal, looming, obsidian double doors flew open with such a force that a flight breeze blew across Harry's face. The cold rush of air danced across his cheeks and he leaned his head back slightly, enjoying the cool touch.

Though his few moments of relaxation were interrupted when Albus Dumbledore came strolling into the great hall, his deep blue robes billowing out around him, creating the effect of floating. Harry heard Hermione's breath catch in her throat at the sight of their school headmaster walking down the stone path that led to the large dining table. Harry's appetite immediately disappeared, running away to be replaced by the nervous feeling rolling around in his stomach. Harry noticed that the entire time Dumbledore made his way towards them he hadn't stop smiling, and the usual twinkle in his eye was clearly evident.

"Harry, m'boy! Hermione! It's so good to see the both of you!" He welcomed, as if they had been the arriving guests and he had been eating breakfast quietly at the grand oak table. "I do hope Tom had been hospitable, I wouldn't want my good friend being a rude host to two of my favorite people in the world!" Albus chided, knowing full well that Tom could hear him from the pillar he was hiding behind in the shadows.

"Yes, actually-"Hermione began, but was unceremoniously cut off by Tom making his presence known.

"Would you expect any less of me, Albus?" The Slytherin smiled, coming over to greet his long-time friend properly. He embraced the elderly man in a warm hug before looking at him thoughtfully. "Why Al, you look about 200 years older than the last time I saw you!" He squealed, obviously being sarcastic with his joke.

"Ah Tom, only someone who had seen the same change in his own appearance would notice the negative of others." Dumbledore stated, being mysterious and enigmatic as always.

"Ah hem." There was a small clearing of the throat from the left side of Tom and Albus promptly redirected his attention to the young boy there. "I believe you have some explaining to do, headmaster." Harry reprimanded, bringing a sweet smile to the old man's face.

"Well I hope that Tom has at least done **some **of that, but you can never know with him." Albus harassed Tom, as if the man wasn't standing next to him and couldn't hear a word he was saying.

"Tom has told me everything. He didn't leave anything out." Harry responded.

"Then why Harry, if you don't mind me asking, do I have "some explaining to do"?" He queried, becoming all the more interested in what Harry had to say as the conversation progressed.

"You've been lying to me all my life. You neglected to tell me that you're a vampire, that my parents were really Sirius and Regulus, that bloody Snape is my **godfather** and that Voldemort wasn't really responsible for my "parents" death!" Harry seethed the same anger and frustration that had come through last night during his fit. He willed the urge his magic had to lash out.

"Well truthfully, I only found out recently that Tom is sane and didn't murder James and Lily. But, I must admit that the itch to tell you about the other things was there throughout my time knowing you." He looked at Harry with hurt and regret in his usually sparkling eyes. "But I never had the heart to add to the burden that you were forced to endure." He finished, stressing the point with the emotions playing softly across his wrinkled features.

"I hope you don't think any less of me, Harry." Dumbledore sighed lightly as the young boy shook his head no.

"I'd never dream of it, Albus." He stated, using the matronly man's first name.

"Hmm, well now that that's been all cleared up, I think it's time we all sat down in the study and did some much needed catching up!" Tom near shouted, sounding rather jovial. It didn't fit his usual range of emotions and Harry began to wonder just how close Albus and Tom were. The older vampire was able to change the heir's personality and mood so drastically that the Gryffindor found himself feeling slightly jealous. He willed the emotion away almost instantly.

He followed as the other three occupants of the room began to head out the doors and to the study they had been in last night. His stomach lurched in discomfort. Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle – best friends. His head began to feel dizzy, but he steeled himself and kept his feet steady, and pushed forward.

* * *

I apologize for any spelling and or grammar errors! I tried to go over and correct some things, but I could have missed something.

Please review, this story gets a lot of hits, but not a lot of reviews. They really motivate me to write!


	5. Saw Heaven and Hell Were Lies

A/N: Sorry this took an unusually long time to write. This definitely isn't my favorite chapter, it was extremely hard for me to write. And it felt really forced. I liked it at the beginning, but towards the end it felt so. .BLAH. And there's lots of dialogue.

And it's written in Hermione's POV sort of, which is something I'm completely unfamiliar with. But seeing as it needed to be done for this chapter to establish her as a main character, I clenched my jaw, and grit through it.

Next chapter should be a lot more fun! :)

**disclaimer; don't own, don't sue.**

**enjoy!**

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* * *

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**I feel your heart against mine **

**So take a breath and close your eyes, eyes.**

**8:05 AM:**

Hermione saw holes, in all of them. Every single inhabitant of the room had dark spots in their souls. At first she thought it was simply a flaw in her unrefined empathic skills, but soon she realized that it wasn't that. She was seeing the different flaws in all the beings. All their insanity, sadness, trauma was laid out in front of her eyes to be analyzed and dissected. The person with the most patches was Bellatrix Lestrange. There was barely any color left to her light purple energy, the edges being tattered and frayed beyond repair, dark spots littering the misty surface. The woman amazed Hermione in more than one way, the drive that was behind her eyes, the fight in her. If she was mentally deranged, she did well at hiding it at the most important moments, at least in the emotions she let filter onto her face. Though it was evident in her voice at times, the shrill tone it took when she was flouncing about trying to seem commanding or frightening. But you could see in her physical features that Azkaban hadn't been kind to her. The bones in her chest could be seen in the exposed skin in the low cut dress she was wearing, and the humerus, radius, and ulna in her arms were clearly defined beneath the almost translucent skin. Her hands looked like they belonged on a zombie, the veins and tendons popping up to be shown on the surface, making a mesh of porcelain, purple, and blue on her phalanges. She imagined that the skin would be chilling to the touch, and she shivered involuntarily at the thought. Yes, the Black descendant was fascinating to the genius witch. Everything about the woman made Hermione twitch with anticipation at figuring out the intricate workings of her mind. She felt her face flush at her silly thoughts, Bellatrix was a deatheater who had no trouble killing in cold blood, having heart to hearts with a teenager about her past and current frame of mind was probably not on her agenda. At all.

Then there was Tom Marvolo Riddle, whose soul was strange, which made it difficult for Hermione to understand. She felt all sorts of strange things surrounding his aura, making her hesitate to delve into it further. It seemed as if the soul was in separate sections surrounding various areas of the body. Around his head, a thick heavy that was shimmery and golden circled him almost like a halo, but just below it a second ring of pure black shifted around his skull. Then around his neck was entwining green auras, like a snake, making Hermione believe that was part of his Slytherin heritage. Around his wrists were small wristlets in a deep violet color, which crawled up his arms, stopping at his elbows and wrapping around the crook carefully. The thickest and most prominent of the auras was around his midsection and hips, and it was the darkest, most vibrant crimson color she had ever seen, and it also radiated the most emotion. Hermione assumed that was the sanest part of him, the part residing near his heart. The twisting mist around his legs was the same as the ones around his arms, except a slightly lighter shade. And he too, like Bellatrix, had various holes throughout him, but his were different. They were remnants of larger deeper pits that had once riddled the man's entire being, and some were still in the process of healing. Hermione hoped for a second that perhaps the man would become a big heap of gushing and bounding emotion and warmth but pushed the thought away, severely doubting it. He was healing, but not **that** much.

Severus Snape's aura was generally easy to distinguish and analyze, being much more uniform than Toms but not as changing due to rampant emotions and chemical imbalances like Bellatrix. His soul was all dark grey, with spots of black and white, which didn't surprise Hermione in the least. His holes and loose strands were more traumatic events, like the childhood of bullying he endured, or the abuse from his father. The prominence of this made it easier for Hermione's completely new and not honed skills to read. Snape may have been an expert Occlumens and Legilimens, but he couldn't fool an empath or a soul seer. She smirked smally to herself as she glanced over at Harry.

The smirk disappeared from her face. Harry's soul had. . .changed, since their arrival. It was now very closely similar to that of Tom's, except instead of a second black ring above his head, it was grey, showing that he wasn't evil and light inclined, but fast approaching. And the green around his neck was almost mixed in with the reddish gold of Gryffindor, though it wasn't as noticeable as the green. There were also wisps of white and grey around his torso and a thin band of royal blue, almost like a belt, around his waist. She shivered at the similarity. Could he be. . .? She didn't finish the thought; she didn't want to think on it.

She glanced at the majestic and elder man in the corner. All silver, grey, white, cold, pink and lilac hues for his soul. Not one deep or dark color was evident, except for two holes that were near the aura around his neck. That was where Hermione assumed he had been changed. She still couldn't grasp or comprehend the fact that the headmaster was in fact a vampire. It baffled her beyond all belief. How had he resisted human blood this long? His eyes gave away that he wasn't feeding their blood like Tom's did. In fact, Albus's eyes didn't give any normal indication as to his diet. She drummed her fingers against her thigh, compiling a list of books and tomes she could peruse through to find an answer. She glanced at the walls of the study and scanned spines for any books she hadn't seen or known of before her thoughts were torn away from the extensive literature collection and back to the conversation being held in the room.

"I believe we have a very definite lead on the source of the brutal attacks against your family and countless others, Harry." Dumbledore drawled, conjuring a dish of cherry and lemon drops for himself. "Or would you prefer me to call you Aeschylus?" He queried, picking up a red candy and popping it into his mouth. Harry briefly caught the sight of his unsheathed fangs.

"Harry is fine, sir." He answered, and Hermione noticed how he kept picking at his fingers and glancing over towards Tom. She had to school her features in order to not smirk uncontrollably.

"Very well then," he began again, rolling the hard candy around in his mouth. "I believe that the source of these murders is coming from a place know as 'The Outer Lands' or what we would consider three different alternate dimensions that can be traveled to through very extensive training and work." Hermione knitted her eyebrows together at this. She'd never heard of these places before.

"What are these three other lands and who inhabits them?" The curly haired brunette queried, watching as Tom quenched and unquenched his jaw over and over again.

"The first Outer Land is Fey where fairies, spirits, nymphs, and elementals are located. The second is Vrykolakas where the Vampires reside, along with Demon's and Fiends-"

"Wait a minute, if you two are vampires then why are you here, and not there?" Harry cut in, an inquisitive look on his face. Tom huffed from his perch on the arm of the loveseat beside the teen.

"Patience Harry, everything will be explained in due time." Albus chuckled, giving the young boy a pointed look. "Continuing, the last of the Outer Lands is Angele where the Angels, angelic spirits, planars and Saints reside." Dumbledore finished with a whimsical air about him as he smiled to himself.

"Now, Tom and I believe that the perpetrator that we have been so desperately searching for resides in one of these lands. And it is obvious which one of them we assume he or she is from – Vrykolakas." The elderly vampire stated, looking around the room, obviously gauging Harry and Hermione's reaction. Hermione kept her features steady and didn't let any bit of scant emotion trail across her face. "Any person from that land could hold a grudge against Tom and me, for multiple reasons." He sated.

"And those reasons are?" Hermione queried with a serious nature on her face. She was going to get down to the bottom of this, she was going to suck Tom and Albus of all the information they had.

"Well for one, we were granted permission to leave Vrykolakas after we were accepted into the community." He murmured, glancing at Tom in an almost nervous fashion. He elaborated after seeing Hermione and Harry's confused looks. "When a human or any other magical creature is bitten by a vampire, and successfully transformed, they are taken to Vrykolakas by their sire. Upon arrival there, they are tested in various vampiric fields before they are "assimilated" into out community." Hermione nodded her head for him to continue but Tom picked up instead.

"If you fail three out of the six tests, you're killed. Or if you don't come to the caste to be tested and live as a renegade, you're killed. We are a very close knit and secretive community. If you are granted permission to leave like Albus and I were then you should consider yourself hated by every other vampire in existence. It is a very, very, uncommon event." The Slytherin drawled, his crimson eyes occasionally glancing at Harry.

Hermione noticed that whenever their eyes locked, their auras would shift to match the others, but once they looked away if would return to normal. Her foot twitched uncomfortably at the theories forming in her head.

"But you said Albus found you when you were in the orphanage, which means you had been a vampire before that, wouldn't they have come and killed you since you weren't tested and assimilated?" Hermione looked into the Dark Lord's eyes when she asked this, shivers crawling all over her body at the pure amount of evil the man seemed to emit at any given moment.

"That would be correct if you assumed that I hadn't been tested when I was changed." Tom hissed, his sharp incisors showing clearly in the dim light of the study. Hermione saw an image flash through her mind of a young boy with dark hair being dipped down in Tom's arms, his teeth sinking sensuously into the younger's neck while they whimpered. The edges of the people were blurry, and slightly grainy, and Hermione had to shake her head to spell the picture away.

"But, if what you say is true, then you should appear to be at least 6 or 7, not 25 years old." Hermione narrowed her eyes at the man, analyzing him. Would he so readily bite a person like that? She didn't put it past him. "Since a vampire is merely a cold shell of the human they were upon change, that is." She finished, seeing the halos around Tom's head shift to be darker, even the golden one. She backed herself as far into the cushion as possible, she could almost smell the anger rolling off of the man in deep, thick waves that seemed to never end. He was drowning her in his emotion. She gasped for air, choking on the heavy air of the room.

"Tom was a very interesting case, actually." Albus cut in, making Hermione calm considerably. He was trying to override Voldemort's with his, successfully making a warm wave of calm wash over her, like low tide.

"How so?" Harry pursued, eyes thirsting for any bit of information he could get. Hermione smirked at the shimmer in his yes, proud that he held a thirst for knowledge, even if it was small.

"He didn't carry the vampire trait in his blood like Harry does, meaning he wasn't born with it. So, when he was changed at the rather tender age of 5 and a half, he shouldn't have aged. But his body fought the vampire's venom for almost half of his life until he was about 11 years old and I found him at the orphanage." The elder vampire cast a glance of pride towards the young dark lord. "It was unheard of, in all seriousness; he should've been dead on two accounts. If his body hadn't fought the venom off, he would've died during the change. But the fact that he did fight it off, and for 6 years, should have taken his life a long time ago." Tom rolled his eyes at the words, but Hermione caught the smallest scent of embarrassment coming from him.

"So what happened then, after you found him?" The brown eyed girl urged, not showing her eagerness to hear the rest outwardly.

"I took him in, and with the help of Severus, corrected the damage the venom had done of him," Dumbledore had at this point began walking around the room, obviously searching for something to occupy himself with. He had eaten all of the candies and had found himself feeling considerably bored with all the recollections and reminiscent talk that had stemmed. "Because of course there were some serious problems that had taken course. The walls of his veins had been burned, his heart was deteriorating and his liver growth had been stunted tremendously, along with bone growth also." He rattled off the list of medical traumas, a very disinterested look in his icy blue eyes. He began fiddling around with some books on the shelves, but none of them seemed to spark his interest.

"Now, Albus and Severus couldn't very well continue healing me every year, and eventually they had to let the venom take me. I was 12." Tom nodded in Snape's direction, remnants of gratitude and thanks hanging on his jaw line and under his eyes.

"But you still aged after that?" Hermione chirped, having mustered the courage to even speak directly to the man after the incident a few minutes ago.

"Yes, I did." The man ground out, crimson eyes darkening again, along with his aura. Hermione gulped, but calmed her mind and managed barely to block most of his anger out. A good amount still came through and it made her hands shake and her lip quiver, but she held out to his emotional assault. She knew that he didn't like her, because he didn't know her, but that didn't mean that Hermione was going to snivel at his feet in fear and torment because he was trying to scare her. '_I'm not that weak.'_ She thought to herself. Courage suddenly welled inside her chest at the thought, and she squared her shoulders and looked Tom straight in the eyes.

"So the venom had mutated, I presume? From all the years of resistance it had worn down and let you age considerably until about 20 years old. Then you were tested, granted permission to leave and came back here." Hermione finished, honey eyes fierce with determination. She would prove to the Dark Lord that she should not be toyed with. She saw his chest puff up and the glower creep across his face. She was really pushing it. "I'm sorry Tom, was there something you'd like to say?" She asked, mock innocence plaguing her voice.

He snapped the arm of the chair off, claws unsheathing themselves, fangs bared at her. She felt her courage waver for a second, but she didn't let it stop her. If he wanted to play games, she would play too. She locked eyes with him, drowning out everything else in her head. She hated this man, and she knew it. He had caused thousands of people pain and suffering, one of those people being Harry, someone that she cared about unconditionally. She wasn't going to let him hurt her best friend even more, not if she could stop it. She never was going to trust him, not now, not a hundred years from now.

Hermione was an extremely good judge of character, and so far, Tom just wasn't stacking up to her standards of trustworthy. Whether he realized this or not, she didn't know or care. She wasn't here to make friends or have chummy chats; she was here to ensure Harry's safety and to find out who had killed his parents. It wasn't time to get buddy buddy with the Dark Lord, with **Voldemort. **It was time to get down to business.

"No, Miss Granger, I don't have anything to say, now that you mention it." She heard him hiss, but it didn't hold as much bite as she thought it would. The venomous tone wasn't evident in his voice like usual.

"Please, call me Hermione." She smiled, hand resting casually on the arm of the chair, her legs crossing involuntarily. She was completely relaxed at the moment. He nodded his head at her, showing that he had acknowledged her request.

"Hmm, I believe we have veered severely off topic." Albus chimed in, his commanding voice reverberating off the walls and soaring through the air.

"I concur." Severus mumbled, eyes staring off into the distance. Tom shot him a look.

"To continue where we left off," Albus began again, his eyes taking on a serious nature. "Someone has a grudge against us, and therefore against Harry. We believe that they will begin to target people a little bit closer to home." Albus made it a point to look directly at Hermione.

She understood immediately what was going to happen. It was almost as if everything had suddenly dawned on her in an unreal, other worldly manner. Tom wasn't being short with her because he hated her, but because he was angry that she'd have to be sent away and therefore away from Harry, and he knew that it would make the young teen very irritable. She smiled at the man and he looked away.

"I don't understand," Harry interjected, fear obvious in his voice. "You think they're going to go after Hermione?" The panic and urgency of his tone caused something to shift in Tom, only slightly, but Hermione still noticed it.

"Yes, I do." Albus whispered, looking sympathetic of the boy across from him. He conjured a disk of gummies, popping an orange on in his mouth. "Therefore, we've arranged for her to start her empathic and Seer training." Albus began, his voice commanding. Hermione noticed that whenever Dumbledore spoke, it calmed something in the young Gryffindor.

"Where will she be? Will I be able to write her?" Harry was whipping his head back and forth between the ancient old man and Hermione. "I'll get to see her, right?" He yelped, Hermione saw his hands gripping the arm of the chair near Tom's leg to try and steady his shaking hands. Tom leaned in closer to the boy from his perch, obviously inexperienced in comforting people.

"She'll be all around the world, visiting hyper sensitive areas and locations. But, yes, I believe we can arrange it so that you two will be able to write each other." The curly haired girl felt her insides swirl at the news. She was being whisked away to be taught about an art that was fairly unfamiliar to her with someone she didn't know at all, in completely unfamiliar places. She looked at the floor.

"In addition to that, Harry, you'll be attending school the Other Lands." Albus muttered, but it didn't go unheard. Hermione felt something swelter and boil inside the Boy-Who-Lived.

"What?" He screeched, obviously feeling completely comfortable with loosing his temper in front of both the Dark Lord and the Light Lord. "Which land are you sending me to? Please, tell me you're not sending me to-" He was pleading, he was on the brink of insane, doubled over, anger and contempt, but Albus cut him off.

"Vrykolakas. You'll be attending school in Vrykolakas." The headmaster stated, an obvious annoyance stirring inside Tom. He didn't want Harry to go there. "You very well can't go to Fey, since you aren't a fairy or a nymph. And Angele is completely out of the question. Besides, they will not attack you while you are in their territory, let alone at a school." Dumbledore shot Tom a look that spoke volumes.

"Remember Harry, the person that killed your parents is only one or two people, not the entire population of vampires. The point is to make allies while you're there." Tom stated, looking down at the top of Harry's messy mop of hair.

Hermione felt a pang of jealousy, she wanted to be able to stay in a school and learn. But she reprimanded herself for feeling such trivial things, since she would be learning where she was going, just in an area more particular to her specialty. The jealous flowed back when she heard the Headmaster's next words,

"The name of the school is the Lamia Cruor Academy and it has many areas of magical study to offer, all of which you will utilize to further your education." Hermione stomped the jealousy down again, quelling any feelings of resentment. She should be happy for Harry, not jealous.

"Hermione, you shall be leaving in three days. You'll be retrieved by Annabelle Nyler, a member of a very distinguished family that holds your gift. They're Russian natives, so you'll have to bear with the accent." He smiled warmly at the girl, and she could smell pride, apprehension, calm swarming inside him. She was going to miss having him around.

"Harry, you shall go with Tom to Lamia Cruor to enroll tomorrow. You should be able to start school in about a week, I believe." Hermione's chest burned when her gaze met Harry's. His lower lip was trembling slightly, and she knew that her eyes were probably looking wet and slick at the moment.

Before she could even say a word she was being smothered in a bone crushing embrace. The smell of vanilla and ice filled her nose, and she buried her face into the mussed brunette hair. She felt so unbelievably calm as Harry's aura mingled with her own, and she smiled into the lingering hug. She was going to miss everything about the young Gryffindor. He had grown onto her so much that she had a hard time imagining a life without the young boy. It felt like a thousand needles were stabbing her lungs, screaming at her incessantly. She never wanted to let go of the small frame that was currently entangled in her limbs.

But she had to. She needed to train, to become stronger so she could protect herself and Harry. She needed to do this, whether she liked it or not.

"Promise you'll write me every chance you get. And take pictures, and get souvenirs. And make sure you don't forget about me. I want to know all about everything that's happening in your life." Harry rambled, his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

"And I want to know everything about what's going on in yours too, Harry." She remarked, looking directly at Tom. She wasn't stupid, she knew the man was going to play a major roll in her best friend's life, whether it is good or bad she wasn't sure of.

Hermione managed to remove Harry from his leech like grip on her, and had successfully settled him down next to her on the couch. He was resting his head against her shoulder when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Harry, Tom and I have decided to give you the option of staying here until the beginning of your school term. Or you may return to Grimmauld Place with the Order." Albus offered, still munching on the gummies he had conjured earlier. "Unless there is somewhere else you had in mind?" He questioned.

Harry looked thoughtful before his shook his head, and Hermione knew his answer before he said it.

"I'd like to stay here, at Slytherin Manor." He stated, his eyes locking with Toms. Hermione felt an immense array of emotions coming from the boy next to her, and only a very, very, small, select few from Tom. She couldn't make any conclusions or theories from it though, not yet at least.

A Gryffindor staying in a Slytherin's house. It was unheard of. She almost laughed at the thought of it all, before she stood and made her way back to her room to pack, Harry close on her heels.

* * *

there you go, kiddies!

be sure to review!

like i said, next chapter should be more fun!

3


	6. Hold My Breathe Just To See Your Ghost

Oh, seesh. I'm not going to sit here and give excuses. Life has been hectic, blah, blah, blah, all the usual crap. So I didn't really have time to write, and I apologize greatly for the lack of update. So as a peace offering, I've written an almost 8,000 word chapter. I know, that's really long, but it's probably some of the best stuff I've written so far. =)

**Disclaimer; don't own, don't sue.**

Enjoy.

* * *

**She said "I can't get laid in this town****  
****Without these pointy fucking shoes.****  
****My feet are so black and blue and so are you."**

**10:23 AM:**

_The sky was a dark mix of gray hues and burnt oily browns that streaked across the horizon like bloody smear marks on the cloth of a murder victims tattered tee shirt. Clouds hung miserably in the frothy bathwater that was the area surrounding them, water-logged like a drowned rat in it's last moments of life, gasping for air in sadistic hope that their lungs would expand one last time. The dirt road stretching out before him was dusty and scattered with misshapen rocks that stuck out jagged like a broken glass road leading to the middle of nowhere._

_If there was anyone walking on the road, other than himself, he didn't know why. Hell, he didn't even know why he was there. But he was. Standing in the middle of nothingness, his breath caught in the thick air that slithered between the rotting wood of the fences posts. The dirt that caked the back of his bare, exposed, back laid in layers along his jaunty spine._

_In all reality, Harry thought the place looked like all it needed was some tumbleweeds and a nice hunky cowboy and it would look like your perfect, typical, western hell. Harry also thought that it was the last place on Earth he would ever find himself._

_He managed to push himself along, very aware of the lingering ache in his feet that indicated hours and hours of walking. The only thing that kept him moving forward was the niggling in the back of his mind that told him it was important to find out where this disgustingly long and atrociously dirty path led._

_His feet were bleeding, and for a fleeting second he wondered why he'd left home barefoot._

_The sweat and the grime running down his cheeks made him feel like swine in a piggery, getting ready to be hauled off for slaughter. He nearly puked in self disgust as he trudged down along the path that cut through the horizon like a blade across skin. The pain in his feet stung as his right foot came down on a rather sharp rock, and suddenly his entire body felt heavy with sleep._

_So, so, tired. But there didn't seem to be an end to this walk, to this madman's march. And there certainly wasn't anywhere to rest, unless you wanted to be skewered by jagged stones or ripped to bits on barbed wire that hung loose like old skin across termite infested posts. He wondered why he was dreaming of such a revolting place, and causing himself bodily harm._

"_You're a fool Harry Potter, and you will fail." The voice that spoke on the edge of hysteria in his mind was one all too familiar, and Harry had to resist the pressing urge to roll his eyes at the imposing figure that now dotted the horizon._

_When he had said all this place needed was a hunky cowboy, he didn't mean Voldemort. Making a snake wear a cowboy hat didn't entitle him to the coveted title of 'cowboy'. But he supposed under the extenuating circumstances he could be considered the more slimy version of Clyde. He felt no qualms of making fun of this version of Tom, since it was the psychotic, emotionless therefore evil version of the Dark Lord._

_He puffed out clouds of air as he came to a stop, his body too tired to turn and show any sort of acknowledgment towards the dark wizard in front of him. He shielded his eyes from the sun that was crawling across the dehydrated horizon with his arm. "And why is that, _Voldemort._" He hissed, his lack of patience evident in his voice._

_He barely had time to move or make any sort of reaction before the snake-like man was in front of him, his chest almost touching against Harry's forehead. Spindly fingers wrapped around the supple flesh of the Gryffindor's flushed cheek, pinching it in their razor sharp claws._

"_Because, he will never be what you want him to be."_

_The words resounded in the air, imprinting themselves before everything went black._

* * *

**10:55 AM:**

Harry woke with a start, the resonance of his dream lingering in the forefront of his mind. He rubbed his cheek where imaginary fingers had been only moments before; he shivered as his nails scraped inflamed trails over the flesh. He had been having a lot of these strange, vision like dreams lately and Harry was beginning to think he should be consulting Professor Trelawny about the "strange alignment of the planets that had caused severe repercussions in his life" or some useless rubbish like that. He slid over the side of the bed, his bare legs rubbing against the emerald silk sheets.

His stomach churned as he sat up with a jolt, his spine cracking in a rhythm similar to falling dominoes. He cringed as his feet hit the cold hard wood floors, the potent pain the dream had caused said appendage remembered. He shuffled across the room to peer into the other adjoined bedroom to find Hermione's bed was already made and her living quarters vacant. Harry sighed, wondering how long he'd over slept before throwing on a pair of black slacks and a fitted plain white tee. He meandered into the black and white themed personal bathroom with the marble vanity and venetian styled full mirror and washed his face and brushed his teeth. He skipped the hair. It wouldn't make a difference anyway.

"Harry James Potter if you aren't out of bed yet I swear I will-" Hermione's voice sang out through the rooms and carried into the bathroom just as Harry was toweling the water off his face.

"I'm up, I'm up!" He yelled back, walking into the room where the brunette was standing with her hand placed firmly on her hip her, only response being the firm gaze she leveled him with.

"Tom told me to come upstairs and get you so you could come down and eat breakfast before we leave." She rushed, looking at her feet in a sudden, uncharacteristic show of timidity. He assumed something had happened when Tom had given the orders that she just relayed that wasn't settling well with the young Granger.

"Did he say something to you 'Mione? If he was mean to you, I have to say it's something that shouldn't surprise or frighten you." Harry stated matter-of-factly, grabbing his best friends hand and leading her out of the room and down the lavishly decorated hall of Slytherin Manor.

"And why shouldn't I be frightened? The mans a murderer! Actually, he's not even a man, he's completely inhuman!" She vented, fingers gripping the hand that was interlaced with hers. She ran her free one along the tapestry hanging to her left, index finger unconsciously tracing the body of a slithering cobra, preying upon an unknowing lamb as it rested on the edge of a forest.

"But you forget, my dear friend, all he really needs is a nice big hug!" Harry exclaimed, dancing around in front of her as they slowly descended the staircase. The look she gave him spoke volumes. "Humph, last time I ever give you advice."

"I just don't understand how you can be so comfortable around a man who's caused so much pain in your life." She muttered, looking at anything but the boy next to her. Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, wondering if it was the best idea to answer her. She was very wrong in assuming that he was comfortable in Tom's presence, because he wasn't in the slightest.

The vampire scared the shit out of him, quite frankly, because Harry knew that at any second he could very well kill Harry and be done with it. He never let it slip his mind that the man did have a temper that could surpass his own in ferocity, a spell repertoire and magical knowledge that was feared throughout all of Britain, countless murders that have hardened his resolve and mentality to the point where virtually no regret or guilt is felt when killing, and countless other dark and evil things that should frighten Harry to bits.

But while all those things still scared him, some of them drew him to Tom. The man's boundless intelligence and wit made Harry believe that he could possibly spend hours conversing with the him about all types of things. And since his past was so similar to his, it made it very easy to relate to the man emotionally...sort of. But, the thing that really made him want to be in Tom's company was the amount of power he could feel coming from the man, the dark magic he possessed practically falling off of him in heaps. And when he was close to Tom his aura brushed against him so softly, that he wanted to bask in it's ambiance all day.

A blush began to creep up his neck and onto his cheeks when he decided he'd keep his comments on the subject to himself, instead switching to something different, "Earlier when you fetched me you said something about "so we can leave." Does that mean you're coming with Tom and I to Lamia Cruor today?" He asked, face lighting up at the prospect.

"Yes, I am." Was the terse response Harry received, but that didn't stop the small smirk from appearing on Hermione's thin pink lips. The rest of their journey to the dining hall was in relative silence, except for a few off-hand comments here and there. When they reached the eating place they saw Albus and Tom were already seated at the expansive table, with Tom sitting at the head of it in a ornate high backed chair, with the Headmaster of Hogwarts to his right.

Hermione quickly rushed over and took a seat next to Dumbledore, and gesturing quite forcefully for Harry to sit to the left of Tom, which he did with some aversion.

"It's good to see the both of you have managed to attend." Tom said, sounding rather piquant while doing so. The Dark Lord snapped his fingers elegantly, signaling house elves to bring their breakfast in. Harry had to stifle a chuckle when he saw Hermione watching analytically the way Voldemort treated his servants, obviously looking for an opportune moment to begin a long-winded tirade against the man before lecturing him on the proper care of house elves.

He didn't bother to hold back a snort when Albus asked Triksy, a female house elf, if it was possible more sugar be added to his large bowl of colorful fruit loops.

"When you're as old as I am, Harry, you'll understand the wonders of sweet foods." Had been the ancient vampire's cryptic response. Tom shook his head at the old man before addressing Harry and Hermione on the events planned for the day.

"When we are finished our meal, I want you to have Hermione pick something out for you to wear Harry," he hissed, eyes taking in the young Gryffindors rather sloppy appearance. "Seeing as you can't seem to look presentable on your own." He sneered.

"Now, now, Tom." Albus chided. "If I remember correctly, you liked to go for the rugged look when you were a teenager yourself."

"Old age is obviously getting to you, you daft buzzard." He straightened the collar of his button down black shirt for emphasis. "I would never dress so," he made a point to look at Harry with a rather detested expression on his face, "offensively."

Albus just smiled at the Slytherin heir before diving back into his fruit loops, humming all the while. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Tom continued. "You will change your clothing and then meet me in the entrance hall at 11:30, sharp. Our appointment with Headmistress Vasilia is at 12 o' clock. And I do not wish to be late." He stated, his aristocratic features furrowed into a menacing look that was strangely handsome on his visage.

Harry stood up from his seat as Tom finished his meal. He tried his best to keep his face clear of emotions before he spoke, "Fine, see you then, Tommy-boy." He chuckled, before dashing out of the dining hall and upstairs to his rooms.

* * *

**11:30 AM:**

It took all the strength Hermione could muster in her pin thin arms to drag Harry down the spiral staircase and into the room Tom was waiting for them in. By the time they reached the landing it felt as if her elbow was dislocated from the socket and rolling around on the floor somewhere. She had tugged the idiotic boy down almost 200 stairs for Merlin's sake!

"Harry, you are being a ridiculous, stubborn, ponce." She seethed while glaring in the Golden Boy's general direction. She rubbed her arms delicately to emphasize the fact that she was not happy that he had caused her such suffering.

"Mhhm. I know." Was the only response she received from her friend. She growled in indignation before stomping off towards the foyer, fuming the entire time. Harry followed a few feet behind her, cautious of the distance he allowed between the two.

She rushed through the doorway but almost immediately stopped in her tracks upon entry. Her breath caught uncomfortably in her throat. Her anger towards Harry seemed to subdue itself for a few fleeting moments as she stood perched, stone still right inside the room.

Tom Riddle was handsome, she concluded from her stance there on the brink of being completely and utterly mesmerized or crumbling weakly in fear. She examined the mans sharp features, his tall and lean physique that seemed to flow like rainwater from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. But, his charm and beauty was tainted by the dark aura that seemed to seep from his pores and gather at his feet like a puddle of blood. A stain on his soul that could never be scrubbed out, a mark from all the murder he had committed in his life.

Just because he was sane, didn't mean he wasn't evil. They didn't dictate the other.

Her mind jumped out of it's self imposed introversion when she felt her best friend bump into her back. He yelped, surprised that Hermione was standing there. Harry obviously hadn't been paying attention to where he was walking and she sighed, irritated about his lack of constant observation. The boy was unbelievably intelligent, but common sense he just seemed to be lacking in lately.

"What're you doing, 'Mione? Tom will have our heads if we're late." Harry reprimanded. The bushy haired girl simply rolled her eyes before moving into the room more to make their presence known.

Red eyes traveled to the pair before him, and Hermione felt herself shiver slightly. He smirked evilly, his sharp incisors showing. "Good to see you decided not to stand there and watch me all day, Miss Granger." She didn't know if he was insulting her intelligence or just trying to make her feel embarrassed about being caught staring. She brushed it off, trying to be as emotionally strong as possible.

"Can we leave now?" Harry mumbled from Hermione's side, his hands fidgeting nervously with his shirt. Hermione smacked his arm, giving him a stern look that clearly told him to stop the restless gesture. He let the appendages fall to his sides, heeding the warning.

"Yes, we can." Tom drawled. He had been watching the way the two interacted for further examination later, since friendships and such weren't his forte and he wanted to know as much as he could, since he preferred to be knowledgeable in every subject. Not because he wanted to be either of their friends. "Headmistress Vasilia sent a portkey that will bring us directly to school grounds, come grab a hold of it." The Dark Lord instructed, holding out a gold chain with a large, feral looking golden eagle pendant dangling from it. The two teenagers latched their hands onto it securely before looking to Tom to signal they were ready.

He quietly whispered something in parseltongue before the air-tight, tube sensation of port key transportation over took them.

* * *

**12:00 AM:**

"This, is Lamia Cruor."

Harry stared critically at the looming castle that seemed to roughly jut out from the scenic landscape surrounding it. The trees surrounding most of he grounds were dark, almost black, like the leaves were grown from the rotting flesh of a corpse. The entire area surrounding them was dead quiet, no chirping birds, no students running around chatting and taking walks. Nothing. Just silence.

Harry noticed that despite the fact that it was early afternoon there wasn't much light in the sky, it was dim, like the hours before twilight. The entire sky was dusky, streaked with reds and browns like dirt and sweat. The Gryffindor boy was eerily reminded of his dream from earlier that day, but he pushed the thought to the back of his head as they began to proceed towards the castle.

The building was colossal, perhaps even larger than Hogwarts, but that's where the similarities end. Lamia Cruor emanated a magical aura that was powerful, but mystical, like a shadow that hung above the entire school in an encasing cocoon. It was cold, dark, like an alleyway in an inner-city at 2 am. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled the alpine scent of the air, considering that they might be in a mountainous area for a second. The sky was too dark for him to see any ranges though, so he filed that away for later.

"Why does it feel like my shadow is wrapping around me?" Harry asked, his eyes drifting over towards Tom lazily. He felt relaxed in this place, like nothing from his world mattered anymore. He felt free.

Tom stared at him strangely for a second before asking, "I'm not sure, can you focus on the feeling?" His red eyes flashed with a thirst Harry recognized. He'd seen it in those haunting orbs so many times before.

He did as he was asked though and tried to pinpoint the feeling as he walked, concentrating his mind on the tingle of darkness he could feel coddling him like a small baby. He shut his eyes and exhaled, trying his best to tune himself in to the wavelength of magic that was affecting him. When he re-opened his eyes he was startled, and had to lean on Hermione for a second to regain his balance. There were thousands upon thousands of grid lines, the charts almost endless. And each square had a tiny ruin, or symbol in it. Before he could stop himself, he shook his head and it dissolved into thin-air.

"Well?" Tom pressed, his curiosity piqued by the sudden surge in power he felt coming from Harry. "What was it?"

"I-It was the nothing." Harry fumbled, eyes wide in shock. He didn't dare look at Tom, even though he knew the man could tell he was lying through his teeth. They continued on in silence, almost at the castle entrance.

Harry breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate down. He felt a bead of sweat trail down the nape of his neck and under his shirt ; he shoved his hands into his pockets harshly to keep them from shaking unnecessarily. Why had that happened? He'd never done something like that in his entire life, even though he'd never really **tried** anything like that before. He'd never tried hard in school, he'd just passed and didn't excel in any particular subject or area much to Hermione's annoyance. He loved learning, but never utilized the talents he possessed. So how is it he had been able to tap into a school that is most likely ancient, older than Hogwarts, and see it's wards. Not that he knew how to deconstruct any of the magical boundaries or anything, but still. He shook his head, cleaning his mind of any thoughts pertaining to the subject as they walked through the giant, dark, wooden double doors that were the entrance to the school.

The second Harry walked through the doorway his senses were assaulted rapidly and mercilessly. The entire castle smelled of dust and flesh and thousands of living breathing **creatures**, and for some reason that excited him. His eyes darted around the dim corridor they were walking down, his sight adjusting almost immediately to the scare light. The stone walls were sharp and clear, their gray hue conveying the look of a cloudy day, like mist above the ground. He ran his hands along them in a desperate attempt to feel them, to see if they were actually the liquid moisture he imagined them being. His fingertips met cold ice and he shivered at the sudden contact of the smooth stone. He smiled, he liked this place.

"Harry, c'mon!" Hermione whispered fiercely back at him. He had stopped walking and hadn't even noticed. Hermione tugged at his sleeve, urging him to keep moving as Tom was advancing down the hallway and was about 10 feet ahead of them.

He looked at his fellow Gryffindor and felt a pang of sadness as he laced their arms together and began walked again. He felt guilty for doing this, for going to a different school. For leaving behind all of his friends, Ron, Luna, Neville. All the people that stood behind him when he didn't have the strength or courage to move forward or do what was right. He didn't know if he could go an entire school year without their help, especially Hermione's. He glanced at the bushy haired teen and smiled remorsefully. She was the best kind of friend, always helping, always looking out for everyone, always caring more than humanly possible. And for that he commended her.

He had to be strong though, irregardless of what happens to his friends or where they end up. He needs to be the best he can be here, in this foreign place. But, simultaneously he needs to make close, strong, friends that can help him in his task, because he certainly can't rely upon Tom and Albus for everything. He needs to be independent and show that he has what it takes to lead and fight for what he believes in.

So he would show unbelievable courage, unseen wit, and sharp skills that would help him become the greatest of all time, he thought firmly as they walked into the Headmistress' office. He'd do whatever it takes in the long run, he'd do terrible things if it meant he could be the best, and for once be able to protect those he cared about.

He glanced up from his thoughts to see who he guessed was Mistress Vasilia staring at him sharply. Her golden eyes, like melting honey running from a bee hive, tearing into his soul.

"Hello," She paused for a moment, obviously searching for the correct title to call him.

"Mr. Black will be fine, unless you'd prefer Potter instead? Both are acceptable in this case." Tom offered, glancing at Harry for confirmation. He had to bite back a smirk when he saw the obvious strain on Tom's part having to "answer to" someone else for more than five seconds.

_'Power freak_,' The Boy-Who-Lived thought scathingly.

"Mr. Black is fine." He stated with finality, his eyes never breaking the contact they made with Mistress Vasilia's. She smiled widely, every tooth that shown hiding a dark undertone that Harry couldn't quite read. He stomped down the urge to shiver at the gesture.

"Well then, Mr. Black, welcome to Lamia Cruor. I understand you have applied to attend the school year, beginning in the Fall, is that correct?" She spoke smoothly, like the stones on the walls that Harry had so desperately felt earlier. He watched as her long, pale fingers lit up a long instrument that reminded him heavily of what the muggle villain Cruella Deville used to smoke. She placed it between her light pink lips and inhaled, the smoke wrapping into the folds and strands of her long, pin straight black hair, amplifying it's glossy sheen.

She was strange, Harry thought, strange but beautiful.

"Yes, that's correct." Harry stated, his eyes drifting around the room. Everything was golden, silver and bronze themed. The bookshelves, desk, chairs, and other various furniture pieces were a dark stained chestnut wood. Though despite all the warm hues, it felt icy and desolate in the room, almost as if there were ghosts swimming around in the air.

"I understand that you are two different Dark Heritages that qualify you to attend here, but that you have not reached maturity in either, is that also correct?" She drilled, eyes lazily staring at him. He watched as her eyes took in Tom, the tone she was conveying towards the older vampire hinting at a leer almost. Harry ground his teeth together, not because she was taking sexual interest in Tom but because he himself was being overlooked.

"Yes, you're correct in that I haven't met maturity in any of those heritages, but I have already progressed almost to the point of maturity in my vampiric heritage for reasons we have not discovered yet." Harry bit out, the words stinging his tongue as he said them. Tom had briefed him on what to say earlier, but as the conversation progressed he found it more and more difficult not to adopt a tone with his soon to be Headmistress, and ultimately deviating from the planned statements.

She didn't even look in Harry's direction when she spoke to him next, her mind permanently pre-occupied with staring at Tom. "That's very interesting, Mr. Black. I can sense we shall be seeing nothing but exceptional progress and performance from you in the coming school year." She stated, her eyes glowing as she continued to analyze the Dark Lord. Harry felt his scar flare up slightly in reaction, Tom's obvious discomfort and also distaste towards the current situation showing through.

"Does that mean you've accepted my application?" Harry asked, his voice smooth but lightly coated in some semblance of excitement.

"Yes, it does." She stated, her eyes finally making their way back over to pierce into Harry. He wasn't disconcerted with the fact that she was now leering at him also. "You'll be arriving with the rest of the students at the beginning of the Fall term, you'll be sorted with the First Years but afterward assessed on your skills in order to determine what year you'll be beginning in, and what extra classes you'll need to take in order to meet our academic prerequisites in order to graduate, understood?" She stated, and Harry wondered how in the world she had managed to say that all in one breath.

"I understand." He mumbled, feeling slightly tired, his body taking on a numb feeling.

"Good, you shall receive a letter stating what materials you'll need for your classes by owl." She rolled her eyes at the statement, obviously discomforted by the thought of sending mail by a bird. "You may leave." She said, puffing on her tobacco as she occupied herself with some paperwork that lay haphazardly on her desk.

Harry turned on his heel and left the office before Tom or Hermione had a second to realize what he was doing. He smirked with satisfaction as he felt them follow close behind. He had been accepted into the school, making him one step closer to greatness.

* * *

**2:34 PM:**

Hermione found herself buried in book after book in the study moments after they had arrived back at the Manor. If the collection of books here in the home of Slytherin was anything to go by, Hermione couldn't even imagine what gems she might come across at Riddle Manor, if she ever had the pleasure of being allowed in there.

If was generous enough of Tom to allow her free reign over the library here, and she was grateful beyond all belief for that. The shelves here were crammed from floor to ceiling with tomes and books and boxes and stacks of parchment almost all ancient and extremely rare. She handled all of them with caution and care, but minded the list of books and sections that Tom had recommended she didn't delve into, but said she could if she felt the undying need. They were all books she'd have an aversion towards normally anyway, so she didn't mind.

Anyway, now that she was back from the school she had continued her research on Vampires and Elves and all other magical creatures she could think of that might be attending school with Harry, and then she had compiled a list (with heavy notations) on each creature to give to her friend to study before he left for school. Since she'd be leaving in a week for her own training, she had to get as much research done in the time she had in order to ensure Harry would be alright. Plus she'd be bringing some books with her and then owling him any information she stumbled across on her travels that might be of interest or help.

Because she knew Harry wasn't going to put much thought into researching before he went to school. She knew him too well at this point, and was positive that he'd either be spending time getting his things ready for school, flying his broom, reading a book that wasn't relevant to any of the troubles she knew he'd be facing in the future, or off gallivanting around with Tom or Albus or some other person that she knew would give in to most if not all of his whims.

'_The price people pay for that boy's affection at times is astounding._' She commented internally. She wasn't implying that Harry was in anyway spoiled, because he wasn't. At all. Even though he had plenty of money and time to be said adjective, he wasn't. If anything he was humble and not wanting of any attention or material things.

But in no ways does that mean he doesn't enjoy a few, luxuries, every now and then. Which Hermione was positive Albus or Tom would allow if only for the sheer fact that they wanted to see him happy, well at least Albus anyway. Hermione still wasn't sure of Tom's intentions with Harry, she considered every possible situation and scenario, tested the probability of several theories through equations and math analysis. Yet, she still couldn't find a conclusive or reassuring answer to her questions. It was as if the Dark Lord had planned it this way, to keep her stumped on his true set of goals so that she couldn't interfere.

Which was downright suspicious in itself.

But she tried not to dwell on it too much, since she knew no matter what Harry would come out on top. He always did, he always prevailed. It was almost as if God's hand hovered over him constantly, plucking him out of death's claws every time it got a stable grip on him. It was astounding. **He** was astounding. Always surprising everyone around him with his growth, whether he realized it or not.

That was another thing, his humbleness bordered on self-pity or loathsome sometimes. It was almost as if he didn't think he was great as he was sometimes. But she knew that was all just temporary feelings brought on by the catastrophes he was set to endure in his life. He wasn't infallible after all, he had many flaws. But those cracks were what made him who he is, what made him unique and powerful.

So, despite all of Harry Potters blunders, Hermione in the end, was still more than proud to be his friend.

* * *

**2:34 PM:**

Harry laid in the grass of the meadow he'd found, staring up at the storming sky. He'd gone wandering after they'd arrived back from Lamia Cruor, his mind so preoccupied with his thoughts and feelings that he hadn't even noticed that he'd wandered outside the boundaries of the wards, through the forest and eventually where he was now, in this gigantic field surrounded completely by trees on all sides. It was private, secluded, his.

He felt so completely alone in the vast expanse of wheat stems and long grass that he wondered if this place was temporarily dead. Or if time was frozen when he was in here, preventing any others from disturbing his calm little center. It felt utterly fantastic, either way.

He watched the clouds shift, making way for a more larger black one that seemed to cover the entire expanse of the sky. The wind blew as if on cue, the plants around him brushing his face in warning of the storm to come. But he didn't care, no, didn't mind.

Here he could finally feel the pain of loosing Sirius, could finally grieve, let go, accept. If that was possible. As the emotions of loss rapidly overtook his body he became aware of his surroundings acutely, just as he had when he entered the castle. It was almost as if a sudden swell of uncalled for but potent emotion triggered his acute senses. He smiled as the change overtook him, and he felt all the life pulsing around him.

Deer and rabbits in the forest, eating, running, being free and unhindered by the world around them. Bugs buzzing through the air, making an unexpected timbre that is unique and beautiful in itself. All the plants and flowers, and trees, swaying to the forests tune. He could feel it all, he could smell it, taste it, hear it, destroy it. But he didn't feel bad about that, didn't feel like an animal for having thoughts so negative.

He was an animal after all, whether he wanted to be or not, therefore when he wasn't in control of that side of himself like now, he was going to have animalistic thoughts, urges, tendencies. He smiled as he heard the bushes rustle loudly at the edge of the field closest to him. Footsteps signaled the persons approach, and before Harry could open his eyes he smelled that unforgettable scent.

"I don't want to be bothered, Tom." He stated in a monotone that could rival the Dark Lords. He felt a pang of guilt, talking to his former arch nemesis. What would Sirius think of him? Oh right, they were all the best of bloody friends, so he'd be proud that his son was allying himself with the leader of the Dark.

Did that sound ridiculous, or was it just him?

"It is rather unfathomable." Tom commented as he laid himself down next to the young teen. Harry made no indication that he heard the others comment or that he recognized his presence so close in proximity. It was almost as if he was lifeless laying there on the ground.

Long, drawn out seconds passed by and the silence was deafening in the clearing. The wind blew again in warning, but neither headed it. A crack resounded in the distance, breaking the noiseless pause.

"Why did you leave the protection of the wards?" Tom asked, his voice harsh and commanding, like it should be when addressing someone. Harry thoroughly enjoyed it when Tom spoke in clipped tones and heavy statements weighed down by sarcasm.

"I wanted to be alone," Harry mumbled in response, his eyes still remaining shut. "I obviously need to go farther next time."

Tom chuckled at the statement, "I was worried." He glanced at the other, still no response, no movement, no external recognition except the very slight quirk of his lips. "I thought you'd run away or done something else as equally brash and Gryffindor-ish."

Harry almost full on laughed at the statement, but opted for a smirk instead. As if Tom wasn't Gryffindor in certain ways either, making idiotic decisions not for the benefit of others but himself instead. It was sort of convoluted and most certainly deformed, but it was still Gryffindor like.

"Whatever you say, Tom."

The other huffed in frustration at Harry's lack of interest in the conversation and most certainly at the lack of interest held in his presence all together. Tom turned on his side and began to pluck at strands of grass to relieve his anger.

"Irregardless, it was dangerous and stupid. The wards are placed upon the grounds for a reason, and I'd appreciate it if you'd recognize that fact."

Harry thought for a second, '_Oh, wow, the wards are placed on the grounds for a reason and what I did wasn't all too smart. Hmmm.'_

"There, I just recognized it." He snapped sarcastically, causing Tom to full on tear a chunk of grass out of the ground.

"You are the most disrespectful, aggravating, dim-witted, brat I've ever met!" He ground out, his hand still curled around the fist of dirt and plants he'd ripped from the Earth.

"Then why are you putting yourself through the misery of being in my presence, Tom?"

If looks could kill, Harry would be dead a thousand times over by now. He felt the heat of the glare he was receiving and decided that now would be a good time to crack his eyes open and take in his surroundings. The intensity of red that he was met with wasn't surprising in the least, Harry was being wishful when he'd thought that maybe with sanity Tom's temper would have calmed down a bit.

Guess that was too much to ask for.

"You'll return to the Manor with me immediately, and you will not leave the boundaries without my permission, do you understand?" The Dark Lord ground out, his demeanor slowly seeming more and more like Voldemort and less and less like Tom. Harry really brought out the best in him.

"Were you this bossy as a kid, too?" Harry drawled as he sat up, gazing down at the still laying man.

"Is that relevant?" Tom hissed.

"No, it's just so much fun learning about your childhood!" Harry squealed with mock enthusiasm. Tom sat up swiftly, his eyes staring into Harry's green ones.

"Why are you acting so insufferable?" Tom bit out, his voice cold and harsh. Harry made to get up and leave, not wishing to discuss the fact that he was still mourning his father with someone as emotionally incapable as Tom, but said man grabbed his arm, pulling him back down to the ground. "You're not running away from this, Harry. Learn to finish the things you start." He uttered darkly.

"I know how to finish things, _Voldemort_." Harry growled, trying to wiggle his arm out of the steel grasp. A very animalistic noise rumbled in his throat when he realized there was no getting out of the Dark Lord's grip. Tom smirked maliciously, his eyes gleaming strangely when he heard Harry emit the rumbling noise.

"Obviously you don't," He paused, his smirk dissipating as he saw Harry's features morph to blank, emotionless, defeat. "Now, stop avoiding my question." He made sure he was aware enough to catch any of Harry's stray thoughts without intruding into his mind.

He sighed heavily, his eyes cast downward, "Since there's no sense in evading this, I'll tell you," He stated calmly. "But don't get it in that head of yours that I trust you in anyway, because I don't." The calmness was replaced by a sharpness.

"Understandable." Harry nodded before continuing.

"I was thinking about Sirius." There was no emotion left in his voice when he said this, all the life drained from his face as he stared at a point off in the distance. His attention swiveled elsewhere when he heard an animal creep slowly out of the forest to investigate the noise. "It wasn't any of that wallowing in self-pity crap." He quickly mended when he saw the expression on Tom's face. "I was just trying t-to come to terms with it. Accept it." He explained as his eyes took on a glassy effect. Thunder cracked far off somewhere again, but just as before it went completely unnoticed.

Tom remained silent as they each started in separate directions, their minds somewhere else than in the field they were currently inhabiting. The clearing was slowly engulfed in pre-storm darkness, the sky taking on a light dusky feel. And in that moment, that split second, everything was completely still. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, not a single sound or twitch from anything. And then Harry felt little droplets hitting his skull in uneven intervals. He blinked a few times, pulling himself out of the stupor he had immersed himself in, before looking over at Tom.

He watched the other continue to stare off somewhere else, red eyes blank and shining like polished rubies, the steady rise and fall of his chest making it look like he might actually be asleep.

"You are an exception to everything I ever believed in,Aeschylus Andante Merlin Black." Tom finally stated, a raindrop running down the bridge of his nose. His eyes never flickered away from where he was staring at. "I thought everyone with emotions was weak, lower than me. I thought love was sickening and useless, that power and force were the only means I should ever need to obtain my goals." He paused and smiled sadly, as the rain come down harder than before. In seconds they were soaked, but neither cared, the only thing that mattered was the words slipping past their carefully crafted barriers into the moisture slicked air. "And so far, you have proved all of that, amongst many other things, wrong."

Harry shivered not from the cold or the rain but from something else, something deep down inside him that felt so unnatural, so unreal that it surprised him for a few seconds. He didn't know what it was, or why he felt so different, all he knew was that it was real. That this was real, that Tom was baring something strange and unique to him in this very second and if he didn't soak it in, devour it, it would be gone forever, never to be seen or heard again. He met crimson eyes with such conviction it scared him to the bone, he knew that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, this man before him, this powerful, fantastic, tortured, mental man would play the biggest role anyone has ever played in his entire life. And for once it wasn't going to involve something bad or terrible. He could feel it in the air he was breathing, in the water running down his skin in streams.

"And I thank you for that." He finished, hand brushing a wet strand of hair from Harry's face. The soft expression was soon replaced by a hardened, cool, mask and Harry had to smile at the familiarity of it. "Now get the hell up, you're soaked and that last thing I need is for you to catch a bloody cold." He huffed, marching off in the direction of the woods.

* * *

Uhm, holy Tom/Harry crazy, emotional, whacked scene. I thoroughly enjoyed writing that.

Review, please! It's GREATLY appreciated. Srsly.

:D&love.


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